


I'm not your boyfriend, I just play him on TV

by Its_Bee_Winchester, TheSavvyGeekInGlasses



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fake Dating, M/M, anyways I'll probably add more tags later, is that even what this is called who knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Bee_Winchester/pseuds/Its_Bee_Winchester, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSavvyGeekInGlasses/pseuds/TheSavvyGeekInGlasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton is pretty nice to his fans. He lets them get away with a lot. But even a robot as patient as him has a limit, and when a fangirl corners him after a show and proposes, he has to think of an excuse as to why they aren't meant to be.</p><p>And what better excuse is there than saying that he's already taken?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: the google doc this is on is called "you know you've got it bad when you write two fics of the same ship."

“That’s all for tonight, beauties,” Mettaton purred into the microphone. He twirled on his wheel, as graceful as someone built like a toaster on a unicycle could expect to be, before taking a slight bow, his screen filling with a bright, throbbing red heart.

“I love you!” someone in the audience shrieked. Mettaton chuckled in the way he knew made his fangirls weak.

“I love you too, darling,” he cooed, eyes moving over the crowd to take in every last member of it. As expected, they ate it right up. Mettaton was pretty sure he heard the familiar thud of a fainted fan hitting the ground. He sighed dramatically. “But, I’m afraid it is time for me to say 'adieu.' Thank you all for coming. I’m sure I’ll see all you lovelies again soon. Farewell, darlings!”

And with that, he was off, wheeling out of the spotlight with a final wave, before heaving a sigh of exhaustion. As much as he loved performing, even Mettaton had to admit that it took a lot out of a robot. Almost immediately, he was accosted with hired help - his entire entourage seemed to be there to offer him oil, a charging station, help changing back into his more comfortable, EX form.

“I’ve got it, thank you,” Mettaton snapped, waving them off and letting them slink away to wait for his command. Finding a corner, he backed up against it, flipping his switch with practiced ease and triggering his (embarrassingly anime) transition. He clapped one gloved hand over his silicone lips as soon as he felt them materialize, smothering the inevitable “oh, _yes_ ” that came with the process. As sexy as it was for performances, Mettaton felt it was an inconvenience that it happened beyond his control, and made a mental note to ask Alphys how to turn it off next time he saw her.

As soon as the transition was complete, and the last tingles of magic had faded from his new limbs, Mettaton ducked out a side door into the cool night air, suddenly desperate to be out of the heat and closeness of the backstage area. He flexed all his new fingers and toes and took in big, refreshing gulps of crisp outside air.  Even though he didn’t technically need to breathe - in fact, the more often he did it the more often he had to sit through Alphys prying off his chestplate and cleaning out his artificial lungs - Mettaton found the action soothing. It was well worth the earful of anime he’d undoubtedly get during the cleaning. He leaned against the cement wall of the theater, relishing this rare peace and quiet.

“Mettaton!” A voice startled him out of his little moment.

The robot took a deep breath, composing himself and putting on his most benevolent expression before turning towards the speaker. “Yes?”

“Mettaton, it’s me. The girl who called out to you inside. I love you.” A scrawny looking slime girl emerged from the shadows, a rather predatory smile splitting her translucent orange face. “I really mean it. Let’s get married!”

“Hey now, darling, let’s not be too hasty,” Mettaton said, covering his mouth and giving a cute little giggle to hide his discomfort.

“But I’m in love with you. We’re - you’re my soul mate!” The girl pressed herself against Mettaton, effectively pinning him to the wall. Her slime trickled into his leg joints, and he tried not to grimace. That was going to be hell to get clean.

“Honey, I’m touched - truly - but I must say I doubt that’s true.”

“It is, I swear! I have all your posters, and a - a pillow of you, and - I love you so much, Mettaton.  
We’re meant to be, I know everything about you!” She pressed closer somehow. Mettaton felt profoundly uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to ruin his generous, fan-servicing reputation.

“I have no doubt that you do, dear, but - and I’m letting you in on a little secret here - I don't really - like - girls.” A lie. Mettaton considered himself attracted to anyone who happened to be, well, attractive. He just didn’t like girls like this. _People_ like this.

“I can be anything you want me to be,” the girl promised quickly, her features morphing into a more masculine version of herself.

“Erm, that’s - lovely, darling, but - alright, I shall tell you one more little secret. I’m taken.” Another lie. Mettaton was only “taken” by himself and the stage. Relationships were rather difficult when everyone and their brother already thought they knew you, just because they’d seen your shows. Besides, no one could love Mettaton like Mettaton could.

“By whom? I can be better than them.”

Crap.

“Oh, his name is - uh -” Mettaton floundered. Who did he know that was reasonably unfamous and wouldn’t hold it against him if the tabloids got ahold of their name? He couldn’t think of anybody, except - no, they’d only just met yesterday, that would be terribly rude - but no other names came to mind. “His name is Papyrus. You wouldn’t know of him, he isn’t famous like me.”

“Oh, but I do know of him!” The girl - boy? - clapped their hands delightedly. Just Mettaton’s luck tonight. “I used to live right next door to him in Snowdin. He’s an idiot. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Now, I don’t think you get to decide that -” Mettaton started. Their voice had changed from excited to downright malevolent halfway through a sentence.

“I’ll _kill_ him.” She flashed a manic smile, her beady eyes glowing.

“Oh dear.” This certainly wasn’t going the way Mettaton wanted it to.

“We’re meant to be, Mettaton,” she repeated, caressing his face and leaving another trail of slime. Mettaton couldn’t decide if she was pleading or threatening. “Can’t you see?”

“Darling, you don’t even know me,” Mettaton said with a kind smile, fighting the urge to rub the slick off his face. He mustered all the volume he had, and, before she could respond - “SECURITY!”

He felt a little bad, watching the burly guard dogs drag off his little fangirl, but - ugh, he was covered in goo. Alphys wasn’t going to be happy about this. He’d have to stop by her house, there was no way he was going to stay like this until morning. Mettaton wished Alphys had thought to make him waterproof. Of course, his old form was, but he doubted transforming while covered in slime residue was a good idea. Who knew where the magic would make it end up if he did that. Mettaton shuddered, and turned his thoughts back to the bigger problem at hand. He really hoped the girl wouldn’t tell all her little fangirl friends about her encounter, but he suspected that hope was too high to hold onto. With his luck, news of his new "boyfriend" would be plastered all over the tabloid magazines by the next morning.

With a sigh, Mettaton headed back inside. What was he going to tell Papyrus?


	2. Chapter 2

Sure enough, when Mettaton’s nightly charge was completed and he left his sumptuous bedroom in search of entertainment, he found his butler already waiting with the latest tabloids.

_Is sleazy heartthrob Mettaton finally settling down? Rumours are spreading fast that everyone’s favourite TV bachelor will soon be everyone’s favourite TV husband..._

Mettaton grimaced. He didn’t mind being called sleazy - he wasn’t above having nightly flings with some of his more devoted fans after shows - but implying he was going to get married? He’d made up one little boyfriend for one teeny tiny little fan. How could it possibly have blown up this quickly? He skimmed the rest of the article before checking his social media accounts. Sure enough, they were full to brimming with wildly incorrect gossip as well. And - this surprised him a little - threats of a similar caliber to that of the girl last night, towards Papyrus. Mettaton knew his fans went a little crazy, but this was absurd! He’d never dated anyone seriously during his reign over the media, so of course this hadn’t happened before

“Would you be a dear and get me Papyrus’ phone number?” Mettaton asked his butler smoothly, handing his phone to the mousy man and turning away. His voice didn’t betray any of the alarm rising in his system.

The butler scurried away with Mettaton’s phone, and Mettaton threw himself down onto the nearest chaise lounge and closed his eyes.

“Sir? He’s on the line,” the butler said moments later, holding the phone away from himself. Mettaton could hear shouting even before he took it.

“ - is this? Sans! Is this you and one of your awful pranks? You should be working, you -”

“Hello, Papyrus dear,” Mettaton interrupted, his voice as still and calm as a mountain lake.

“M-Mettaton?” Papyrus gulped audibly. “How did you get my -”

“Yes, it’s me, and, darling, I own the phone company, I can get anyone’s phone number,” Mettaton said brusquely. He draped himself more alluringly on the chaise lounge, staring at his own reflection in the huge mirror on the opposite wall. He was even shinier than usual, since he’d stopped by Alphys’ to get the slime cleaned out of his joints, and he couldn’t help but admire himself. “Anyways, we may have a… situation, to deal with.”

“I have a situation of my own, Mettaton. You may be a star I will not just let you waltz in and command me to do things,” Papyrus said huffily. “There is a whole crowd outside my house, yelling. I’ve been throwing bones in hopes that they’ll get distracted and leave, but they haven’t yet. I’ll call you back when I sort this out.”

“Wait!” Mettaton said, before Papyrus could hang up. He was a little offended by Papyrus’ tone, but he put it aside. “I - I think I might have something to do with that, dear. Terribly sorry. I, uh, how do I put this, sort of said you were my boyfriend to turn off a crazy fan.”

“W-what?” Papyrus sounded incredulous. “Why me? I mean - it is an honor, but - is that what all these people are yelling about?”

“Probably.” Mettaton sat up abruptly. “I think the best option here would be to convince them all we’re too cute together for them to hate you. I - I’ll come get you. Stay inside. When you see a pink limousine, uh, get through them however you can, and we can go somewhere private to plan this out. Got it?”

“This all seems very suspicious,” Papyrus said. “Are you sure -”

“Well, I can’t think of any better ideas,” Mettaton huffed. It was embarrassing to have to ask someone to fake date him. And he hadn’t expected resistance. He was a star, for Pete’s sake! “Anyways, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try not to provoke them.”

“I wo-” Papyrus started, but Mettaton had already hung up. He tucked his phone into the little storage compartment built into one of his thighs before bustling over to his butler.

“Get my car ready please, darling, I have a date to pick up,” Mettaton demanded, his hands perching on his metal hips. “Oh, do I look alright? I’m going to be photographed, I have to look perfect.”

“Alright, sir, I’ll have it brought around. And no need to fuss,” the man tutted. “You look perfect as always.”

“You’re just saying that because I’ll fire you if you don’t.” Mettaton pouted, but he knew it was true. He always looked perfect. He shooed the butler away and hurried to his closet to find an appropriate outfit for the occasion.

 

* * *

 

When Mettaton arrived at Papyrus’ house, he was bombarded by what looked like at least a hundred or so fans. Of course, they couldn’t get near him, he was safely locked inside his limousine, but they crowded around the car like pigeons around bread, shrieking and pressing themselves against it in hopes of catching a glance of the famous -nay, dare he say - legendary Mettaton. Fortunately, Mettaton had very tinted windows. He peered worriedly out over the sea of monsters, until he saw his ‘date’ come out of the house with a broom. Papyrus hurried through, brandishing the broom like a sword and forcing the crowd to part for him. He tossed the broom away as he got into the car, giving a little sigh of relief as he slammed the door behind him and the driver peeled off, leaving the screaming horde in the dust.

“So,” Mettaton said, arching one painted eyebrow and staring at Papyrus with hooded eyes. “First of all, I must apologize, I told you a teensy little lie on the phone.”

“Y-you did?” Papyrus looked a bit shocked.

“We aren’t going somewhere private,” Mettaton explained, resting his forehead on two slender, metal fingers. “We’re going somewhere quite public, and I am going to woo you. Don’t worry, darling, you just have to be yourself - I’ll do all the acting. This shouldn’t be hard.”

“Woo… me?” Papyrus said slowly, his pale brow bones drawing together.

“Yes. It’ll be easy. Just act like you can’t get enough of me and they’ll eat you right up, I promise.” Mettaton reached over to pat Papyrus’ kneecap reassuringly, and Papyrus jumped a bit at the sensation.

“Alright,” Papyrus said after a moment. “I, the great Papyrus, am ready to be the greatest boyfriend you’ve ever had!”

“Fake boyfriend,” Mettaton corrected quickly. He didn’t think it was necessary to point out that he’d never actually been in a relationship. Instead, he shifted, crossing his legs at the knee and letting the slitted gown he had chosen fall open, revealing one long, sleek, metal and silicone leg. Papyrus’ eyes flicked down and his cheekbones glowed orange in what could only be described as a blush. Mettaton smiled with a few too many teeth.

“Right - yes, of course,” Papyrus said after a moment. “Your fake boyfriend. I’m an expert at dating, fake or not, anyways.”

“I’m sure you are, dear.” Mettaton’s smile turned patronising and he withdrew his hand slowly.

Papyrus opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again, looking puzzled. Mettaton took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“But we’re almost there. Come here.” Papyrus leaned closer at Mettaton’s command, his brow furrowing as Mettaton pressed two fingers to his own, painted lips and then smudged them onto Papyrus’ cheekbone. The black lipstick left a greyish, convincingly kisslike mark on the white bone, and Mettaton hummed his satisfaction. He patted the mark, trailing his fingers down Papyrus’ jaw before letting them fall back to his lap. “There you go, angel. We look perfect.”


	3. Chapter 3

“That’s right, you beautiful people, the magazines weren’t making it up. Mettaton is Metta-taken!” Mettaton posed glamorously in front of the photographers.

He’d chosen the restaurant of his own resort for their first fake date, partially because its large windows would allow for plenty of pictures, partially because it was free. Despite being one of the richest monsters in the underground, Mettaton wasn’t a huge fan of unnecessary spending. He prefered to roll around in his wealth than spend it. Now, before going inside, Mettaton was taking a moment to introduce his so-called lover to his fans. Mettaton mentally patted himself on the back for thinking to leak the location of his date via undercover social media account. He held up a hand to shush the crowd.

“And you know what, lovelies?” Mettaton asked confidingly. He paused for dramatic effect, leaning forward slightly. “He’s here with me. That’s right, you heard me, I’d like to introduce you all to someone who’s almost as perfect as me - Papyrus! Come on out, darling!”

Obediently, Papyrus climbed out of the limousine, waving at the cameras. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mettaton stopped him with a finger over his mouth.

“Isn’t he handsome?” Mettaton crooned, pulling himself close to Papyrus and caressing his cheek with one long finger. “Isn’t he almost as perfect as me?”

Papyrus’ expression showed pride at that, and he nodded, looking up at Mettaton from where he was pressed to the robot’s chest.

“Now, beauties, we’ve been together for a while, in secret, haven’t we, sugar?”

“Uh, of course, yes, we -” Papyrus stumbled over his words a little.

“Yes, that’s right. But now we’ve decided to come out with it publicly.” Mettaton kept up the confidential tone, as if all these strangers were his best friends. “I know, some of you might be feeling a teensy bit jealous, but I promise you’ll all come around once you see how absolutely _adorable_ he is.”

“Mettaton, I -”

Mettaton chuckled at Papyrus’ perplexed expression, and gestured at the door to the restaurant. “Well, it looks like someone’s a bit impatient for this date to start - and I can’t say I’m not excited either. I think it’s time we leave you, darlings. I adore you all. Toodles!"

 

* * *

 

“So, darling, how do you like my little establishment?” Mettaton asked, once they were safely inside and their meal had started. Papyrus had been talkative at first, eagerly telling Mettaton random little stories about his life, but he’d quieted considerably when the food came, preferring eating over talking. Mettaton sipped a wineglass of motor oil. He didn’t eat often, and when he did, it was usually desserts.

“Oh, it is quite nice,” Papyrus said, through a mouthful of spaghetti. “I daresay I could do better than this cook, but it’s a very nice restaurant. It’s a lot fancier than anything in Snowdin.”

“Yes, dear, that’s why we’re here, and not in your little animal town,” Mettaton said dismissively.

“But why’d you tell them we’d been together for a while?” Papyrus changed the subject suddenly, sounding confused. “Don’t you think they’d like to see our love blossom from shy beginning to passionate end?”

“I thought it would add to the believability of the story,” Mettaton said, mentally kicking himself. Papyrus’ idea did have some merit. There was nothing his fans would like more than a dramatic, beginning-to-end love story. “Anyways, I have a plan as to how this will pan out.”

“Hmm?”

“This relationship. Fake relationship. Whatever.” Mettaton leaned in as if Papyrus had just said something particularly cute and interesting, resting his chin delicately on the back of one hand. “I have it all planned out. You’ll come on tour with me, we’ll be adorable, and at the end of the tour, we’ll either stage a huge fight and you’ll go back to life as a normal person, or you’ll just sort of fade out of existence in the celebrity world, and go back to life as a normal person. Depending on how much they like you.”

“I am very likable.”

“I’m sure you are, sugar, but it doesn’t matter much in the long run,” Mettaton giggled behind one hand before reaching for Papyrus’, rubbing his thumb over the red material of Papyrus’ glove.

“I’m getting a lot of mixed messages here,” Papyrus said, looking at the hand Mettaton was holding as if it were not his own.

“It’s all for the people outside,” Mettaton explained. With a little wink, he pulled the hand to his lips and gave it an elongated kiss. Papyrus looked shocked.

“W-what was that for?”

“I told you I was going to woo you. There are people outside with cameras. I know this is just a business meeting, but as far as they’re concerned, we’re a happy new couple out on a date. We have to play the part or they won’t buy it!”

“Okay, I think I understand,” Papyrus said, a perplexed look on his bony face. He still had the smudge of black lipstick on his cheekbone, in full view of the cameras outside. He pulled the hand Mettaton still held close to himself, and, to Mettaton’s surprise, mimicked his gesture, pressing the the hand to his own teeth.

Except he mixed it up, pressing his lipless kiss to the palm of Mettaton’s hand, instead of the backs of his fingers. It felt more intimate somehow. Mettaton reigned in his surprise after just a fraction of a second, smiling dotingly across the table.

“Is that right?” Papyrus asked, his brow bones drawing together a little. Mettaton started a little at the question, he’d been so focused on looking good.

“Yes, dear, that was perfect. I hope someone got that on camera.” He paused. “You might just be good at this, after all.”

“I told you, I am an expert dater. I’ve read the guidebook over a hundred times.”

 

Mettaton giggled. “You certainly have an unusual sense of humor, Paps.”

“I don’t think so,” Papyrus said. “You know who does have an unusual sense of humor, though? Sans. His stupid puns are definitely not normal.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, I think puns can be quite clever.” Mettaton pointed to Papyrus’ nearly empty plate. “Are you finished with that? We really should be going. You have to pack.”

“Pack? I don’t recall having planned any trips.” Papyrus cocked his head to one side.

“The tour, Papyrus,” Mettaton sighed, fighting the urge to put his hands over his face. “We’re leaving tomorrow. My driver will pick you up. Pack what you need and be ready to leave at noon.”

“It seems sort of sudden, Sans will -”

“Sans will deal with it,” Mettaton cut him off shortly. “I can’t have stories that I made up a boyfriend going to the presses. Do you have any idea how pathetic that sounds?”

“I mean - that is what you did, isn’t it?”

“I - yes, but - it was self defense! I didn’t want that girl getting slime all over me!” If robots could blush, Mettaton would be blushing. Instead, his internal fans whirred loudly, trying to cope with the sudden onset of heat. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” Papyrus sounded genuinely confused.

“Like - like - I don’t know, just stop it. Let’s go,” Mettaton stood up abruptly before offering Papyrus his hand, remembering that they had to look affectionate. Papyrus took the offered hand and stood up, yelping in surprise when Mettaton grabbed his hip and pulled him close as they exited the restaurant.

They were only outside for about ten feet, with Papyrus waving eagerly at the cameras and Mettaton looking down at him with his best adoring look, but hundreds of pictures were probably taken. Mettaton breathed a sigh of relief as he ducked into the car after his new boyfriend. It looked like they were eating it right up.

Papyrus sat silently in the car, seemingly deep in thought, and Mettaton didn’t want to disturb him. But when he still didn’t move when they pulled up in front of his house, Mettaton put a hand gently on his knee. He started, then looked over, an odd look on his face.

“You have a good evening, won’t you, darling?” Mettaton asked, his tinny voice almost bored in tone.

“Yes, of course,” Papyrus replied. He still seemed preoccupied. “I’ll - I’ll see you tomorrow, Mettaton.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Mettaton left his home to go pick up Papyrus the next day, he actually found himself excited to see him again. This surprised him a little. Of course, Papyrus was… aesthetically pleasing - Mettaton doubted he would have come to mind as a potential fake date if he wasn’t - but he wasn’t the kind of monster Mettaton typically enjoyed being around. Mettaton liked to be worshipped, idolised, and treated like the star he was. Papyrus treated him like an equal. It was surprising, to say the least. A little disconcerting, too, if he had to be honest. And yet he found himself looking forward to hearing what silly little stories of Papyrus’ mundane life he’d be hearing when he picked him up.

He was, of course, packed and ready to go hours before he needed to be. Mettaton was automatically awoken as soon as his battery was full - usually around eight or nine in the morning, depending on how depleted it was when he shut down - and today, it had been closer to eight. And packing just meant moving as many outfits as he could fit out of his walk-in closet and into his portable one, and then sitting and yelling until his butler came to take it away, so that had been a breeze. Mettaton paced, not necessarily anxious - he’d done all this a thousand times before - but… okay, he was a little bit nervous. He’d done all this a thousand times, yes, but it was always alone. He didn’t have to think about what someone else would be doing onstage, unless he counted the random audience members he’d pulled onstage to sing at, or dance with, or otherwise humiliate for his own amusement, which he didn’t. How was he supposed to be confident when he was trusting someone else not to mess it up all the time?

Mettaton ended up having his driver take him to Snowdin an hour earlier than he was meant to. Papyrus was just a normal guy, he couldn’t have that much to pack - and besides, Mettaton had told him to pack yesterday. What was one measly hour? He walked confidently from his car to the door of the little house, giving it three sharp raps and shifting impatiently from one foot to the other while he waited for Papyrus to answer.

“Well hey there, Mettaton. What brings a rich, famous hunk of metal like yourself to a place like Snowdin?” Either Papyrus had gotten shorter, or -

Oh.

“Hello, Sans.” Mettaton didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. “I’m here to get your brother. I suppose he told you about our little arrangement?”

“Uh-huh.” Sans leaned against the open door, only coming up a little past the knob, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, I’m not one to judge without merit, and it could be the way my brother phrased it, but it sounded like you’re… kinda using him. You aren’t, are you?”

“N-no, of course not, darling,” Mettaton said quickly. Something about Sans made him jumpy. Mettaton was close to three times taller than him, but he got the sense he wasn’t the one in power here.

“Good.”

“I just need a little help keeping the paparazzi off my back. Your brother is kind enough to be that help,” Mettaton explained himself. “He’ll pretend to be my boyfriend, for, say, a month or two, and then I’ll let him come back here, and everything will go back to normal.”

“And what will Papyrus get out of this relationship?” Sans’ ever present grin was getting unnerving.

“Why, he gets to spend two months with me, of course,” Mettaton answered surely, without really thinking. There was an awkward silence. Sans scratched his chin.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sans? Is someone here?” Papyrus’ voice floated out from somewhere inside.

“Welp. I guess that’s my cue to go.” Sans pushed himself off the door. “I suggest you watch yourself, though, MTT. If you play this wrong, you could end up really boning yourself. If you’re not careful you could end up in a Metta-ton of trouble.”

Mettaton was unsure how a couple of stupid puns could sound so threatening, but before he could react, Sans had already winked and turned away, calling for Papyrus. Mettaton blinked and he was gone. He could only assume Sans had gone upstairs to find his brother - he could see stairs from his vantage point outside the door - but he didn’t hear any footsteps. He put his confusion aside when Papyrus hurried down, carrying a small, old fashioned carpet bag.

“Hello, darling!” Mettaton exclaimed, sounding a lot more excited than he felt.

“You’re early!” Papyrus matched Mettaton’s upbeat tone, but he was probably sincere. He usually was.

“Well - yes, I finished packing early. I got bored, so I decided to come early,” Mettaton said, with a shrug. Then, remembering what Sans had said, “I hope I’m not intruding on anything?”

“Of course not! I finished packing early too, look!” Papyrus held up his odd little bag.

“What?” Mettaton covered his mouth in a carefully choreographed expression of surprise. “Darling, you do know we’re going to be away for a month or more, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I do. I know how your tours work. I’ve seen them on television.” Papyrus frowned slightly. “Is this not a good amount?”

“Well, it is a whole month,” Mettaton said, eyeing the little bag doubtfully. “Are you sure that’s… enough?”

“Of course! I am extremely skilled at packing light.” Papyrus puffed out his chest before leaning in conspiratorially. “Besides, most days I just wear this. It’s my battle body.”

Mettaton smiled uncontrollably. He usually tried to compose his reactions to things, to avoid anything potentially embarrassing, but he’d been unable to hide this. Papyrus talking about his ‘battle body’ was just so… quaint. Come to think about it,the word quaint described Papyrus almost perfectly. Mettaton coughed behind his hand and pointed back at his idling limousine, forcing those thoughts out of his mind. “Well, are you ready to go?”

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, the hotel wasn’t expecting them so early.

It also wasn’t expecting them to be Mettaton - he always arranged things under a fake name, for added drama when he showed up - so there was quite a bit of scrambling and hemming and hawing when they arrived.

Not that Mettaton minded. All he and Papyrus simply had to sit in the big, elegant chairs in the lobby and look handsome while the driver talked to the front desk person about how they needed their room urgently and how it was to be of utmost security, since they didn’t want intruders or paparazzi bothering them. Mettaton was draped in one of the chairs with Papyrus in his lap, absently ghosting his fingers over the bones of Papyrus’ forearm and watching with a sort of sadistic glee as Papyrus’ face began to gently glow orange from blushing so hard. A few hotel guests stopped to take their picture, and Papyrus eagerly greeted each one, until Mettaton asked him to stop, because it wasn’t cool. Finally, the secretary - is that even what they were called? - hurried over, pressing her clawed fingers together and smiling in that strange, tight way that’s only used in uncomfortable situations.

“Terribly sorry for the wait, Mettaton, and…” She trailed off, looking at the blushing Papyrus skeptically.

“Papyrus,” Papyrus said, extending his hand. “All is forgiven, it wasn’t a long wait.”

Mettaton glared at the back of his head. “You should have expected us earlier rather than later, dear.”

“Y-yes, well - I’m sure if you’d given us your real name, it all could have been arranged.” She coughed awkwardly. “Anyways. My name is Melinda, and with a little research I realised - it looked like you two just had an ordinary, two bed room. And I thought to myself, that can’t be right, this is Mettaton we’re talking about, and you two are clearly… quite fond of each other, so I pulled some strings and got you the King’s Suite.”

“Oh,” Mettaton said, somehow keeping his voice smooth and disinterested despite the fact that his mind was reeling. They’d be sharing a bed. Which was okay - perfectly logical, since they were a couple - totally okay. Right? “Thank you, darling, I don’t know how that could have happened. My agent must be more incompetent than I thought.”

“Mettaton, you’re - uh,” Papyrus moved the arm Mettaton had been stroking, and Mettaton realised he’d been gripping it harder than he had meant to. He’d somehow ended up with his fingers wedged between the two bones, clenched tightly around the radius. He struggled to free his hand with an uncomfortable smile at Melinda.

“Sorry, darling,” Mettaton said to Papyrus, once he’d gotten his fingers loose.

“Anyways, the room is ready now, if you two would like to go up and get settled in,” Melinda cut in before he could say anything else, clicking her claws together in a businesslike way. “Charles is bringing your things in, so you won’t need to worry about that.”

Mettaton didn’t bother trying to figure out who Charles was. He pushed Papyrus out of his lap with a little more force than necessary and stood up, following Melinda to the elevator in tense silence. She accompanied them all the way to their room, which was at the end of the hallway on the top floor, handing them keycards as they arrived.

“Well, here you are, then,” Melinda said, after a second of standing in front of the door. “I’ll be down at the front desk if you need anything. There’s a card with all the numbers to call if you need anything, like room service or someone to book you a tour.”

“Darling, I give tours, I don’t go on them,” Mettaton said disdainfully. “What do I look like, a tourist?”

“No, sir, of course not. I just thought maybe you’d like to see some of the sights around here.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Mettaton didn’t sound very thankful. “Now, run along. We’ll call if we need anything.”

Mettaton flopped dramatically onto the ornate bed almost immediately upon entering the room. Papyrus, however, trotted around the little suite excitedly for a good ten minutes, exploring the place, before finally coming to sit beside Mettaton.

“Our things are here,” Papyrus informed Mettaton, who was lying face down and taking up most of the bed. “They’re over by the bathroom. You know, if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Mettaton’s voice was muffled by pillows. He hoped that would be enough of a sign that he wasn’t in the mood for a conversation.

“I don’t understand why you were so rude to that woman,” Papyrus continued, not taking the hint. “She was doing her best.”

“I dislike waiting.”

“Well, no one likes waiting, but you didn’t need to be rude,” Papyrus said.

“Yeah, but I can be,” Mettaton said. He rolled onto his side propping his head up on his hand. “Look, Papyrus, while I’d love to keep listening to you lecture me on morals, what I’d like more is a nap.”

“Can you even take naps? You’re a robot.” Papyrus sounded confused.

“Well, I can shut myself off and set a timer to automatically restart,” Mettaton explained. “It’s not quite the same, but it gives my battery a break.”

“I see.” Papyrus paused, and then stood up. “Well, I suppose I’ll go find a way to entertain myself then. Goodnight, Mettaton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god yall im really excited about the next chapter its gonna be cute AF.  
> also i would like to apologize to papyrus for making him put up with this asshole of a robot if anyone has a universe hoppin machine that can get me to the UT-verse hmu


	5. Chapter 5

When Mettaton felt himself restarting two hours later, he was much warmer than he had been when he’d shut down. And he thought - groggily, it took a few minutes for all his systems to warm up - that Papyrus must have pulled a blanket up over him, because there was an unfamiliar weight thrown over his shoulder. How sweet of him. 

Mettaton stayed comfortably still for a few minutes - he knew what time it was, they didn’t have dinner reservations for another hour - just enjoying the warmth and the silence before he opened his eyes. He wondered what Papyrus was doing, briefly, but figured he must be watching TV in the other room, or something of a similar caliber. Maybe he was knitting, or something. Mettaton wouldn’t put it past him to be somebody who knitted. 

With a little sigh, Mettaton finally opened his eyes, and found himself staring at a red glove. He frowned slightly - didn’t Papyrus wear red gloves? - and tried to stretch, before realising that the weight resting on him wasn’t as even and blankety as he’d thought. Slowly, the pieces came together. A slight turn of his head revealed that the red glove was indeed attached to a bony arm, thrown haphazardly over Mettaton’s shoulder and the provider of the warmth spreading through his metal body. Papyrus was curled around him, his ribcage just behind Mettaton’s neck and his face buried in his hair - 

Mettaton was up in an instant. His hair, his beautiful, perfect synthetic hair, had been nuzzled. And he had dinner plans! He couldn’t leave the hotel looking like - well, whatever mess he was sure he looked like. He actually didn’t dare find a mirror just yet. He reached a timid hand to his head, but quickly brought it back down as Papyrus shifted, letting out a sleepy moan and rolling onto his back. He opened his eyes and squinted at Mettaton, who glared back. 

“What?” Papyrus asked, looking concerned. 

“You were _spooning_ me,” Mettaton hissed, his face a mixture of shock and accusation. 

“I was?” Papyrus’ brow bones drew together slightly and he sat up. “I don’t remember that, I must have rolled over in my sleep. I’m sorry, Mettaton.”

“You ruined my hair!” 

“Can’t you just brush it or something? I don’t know much about hair, seeing as I have none, but -”

“No, I cannot _just brush it!_ ” He could, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Not until Papyrus felt sorry. 

“Well, gosh, Mettaton, there’s got to be some way to fix this,” Papyrus insisted. He stood on the edge of the bed, finally a few inches taller than Mettaton, and stretched out one gloved hand. “Maybe I can help?”

“Oh, no no no, you are not touching my hair.” Mettaton backed away. “You’re the one who ruined it. I can’t believe you -” There was a knock on the door, and both monsters froze. Mettaton grabbed Papyrus’ hand and yanked him off the bed. “Who the hell could that be? I told them not to let the paparazzi in.”

Mettaton marched over to the door and pulled it open, Papyrus trailing behind, and immediately found himself faced by the front desk woman, her face half hidden behind a pastel green clipboard. 

“Terribly sorry to bother you two again, but we’ve been having some… noise complaints,” Melinda said, with a sheepish smile. Her snakelike tongue flicked between her lips. 

“Oh,” Mettaton laughed nervously. He reached back and pulled Papyrus to his side, grabbing him by the hip and pulling him close with a little more force than necessary. “We’re just having a little couple’s squabble. Nothing a little LOVE won’t sort out.”

He left a little trail of kisses down Papyrus’ jaw, and Papyrus yelped, giving him a surprised look. Melinda raised her furry eyebrows, but said nothing. Mettaton hoped Papyrus realised what sort of love he’d be getting. 

“Well,” Melinda said finally, breaking of the glaring contest that was going on between the two. “As you know, I’m always just a phone call away. Try to keep your fighting at a reasonable volume, alright?”

Mettaton shut the door without answering her, turning to Papyrus with pink fire in his eyes. “As I was saying, you ruined my hair.”

“Y-you kissed me!” Papyrus had a hand clamped to the side of his face, as if he’d been wounded.

“Yeah, I can’t have that woman going and spreading that we aren’t getting along,” Mettaton snapped, rolling his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“I think I know what’s going on here.” Papyrus narrowed his eyes in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. 

“Yes, I think it’s pretty obvious,” Mettaton agreed coldly. He was glad Papyrus was finally figuring it out. Maybe now he’d offer a sincere apology for the Incident.

“You’re in love with me,” Papyrus declared, looking proud of himself.

“What?!” That certainly wasn’t what Mettaton had expected. 

“It’s all so clear now.” Papyrus reached out to Mettaton, who backed away slightly. “You have, like so many others before you, become enthralled with my complex, intriguing personality and handsome, rugged features, and you have tricked me into this fake relationship in the hopes that I will fall in love with you, as well.”

“Papyrus, I -” Mettaton stopped. “How can I put this? Uh, how about this? No. You’re wrong. You were just the first name I could think of in an unpleasant situation. I am not in - how could I be - oh, forget it. I’m going downstairs to have a drink. Don’t come.”

“Oh - okay.” Papyrus’ expression was unreadable. “I suppose I’ll just be here then. Have fun, I guess.”

Mettaton stormed out and down to the hotel bar. He couldn’t actually get drunk - apparently even Alphys couldn’t figure out how to make that happen - but it was the dramatic thing to do. He did enjoy the taste of alcohol, anyways, so there was that. 

As he sat in a corner of the dim hotel bar, with the straw to his fruity, unnaturally blue drink held firmly between his lips, he pondered what Papyrus had said. Of course, it made no sense. They’d known each other for less than a week, and they didn’t even get along well. And Mettaton was always falling in and out of love with one thing or another - and he loved Alphys, and his fans, even though those were different kinds of love - he’d know if he was in love with someone. He would. He was definitely not in love with Papyrus. A little part of his mind pointed out that he’d rather enjoyed feeling Papyrus’ arms around him when he woke up, before he realised his hair crisis, but he quickly stamped it out. He just liked cuddling. It wasn’t the fact that it was Papyrus’ arms, it was just arms in general. 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha sans is gonna kick Mettaton's stupid metal ass


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Mettaton left the bar and went back to his room, he felt awful. He wasn’t sure if it was from all the alcohol - sometimes his artificial stomach malfunctioned when he ate too much - or if he just felt bad for snapping at Papyrus, but he didn’t feel good.

He took a deep breath before using his keycard to open the door, calling a cautious, “Papyrus?” as he stepped inside. He found Papyrus sitting perfectly straight on the loveseat, watching infomercials. The infomercial channel was the only one that wasn’t completely dominated by Mettaton, even though a patented MTT item was still displayed every fifteen minutes. Mettaton was a little hurt.

“Hello, Mettaton,” Papyrus said, unusually quiet and reserved. He didn’t take his eyes off of the TV. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Sure,” Mettaton answered, perching on the arm of the loveseat. “I just had a couple of drinks downstairs.”

“I know, you told me.”

Mettaton took a moment to quash his ego before continuing. “Alright, Pap, look. I’m sorry I confused you. I’m not in love with anybody. Except myself, maybe. And the stage. It’s - it’s not personal, okay? And it’ll only be a month or so, and then you can go back to your regular life.”

“I know.”

“I just…” Mettaton sighed. “I just really don’t want anyone to think I made up a boyfriend. I’d never live it down. You understand, don’t you?”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t have just told that girl it was a secret,” Papyrus said. “Who you were dating, I mean.”

“I - um,” Mettaton swallowed. “I didn’t think of that, actually. God, that’s actually a pretty good idea. I wish I’d thought of that. Would have solved all this without bringing anyone else into it.”

Papyrus nodded. “I think I understand, though. You wouldn’t want your image ruined just because of a silly skeleton.”

“Thank you.” Mettaton stood up, putting a hand on Papyrus’ shoulder and squeezing. He could feel Papyrus’ collarbone through his shirt. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, are you ready for dinner? It’s a big gathering, there will be lots of reporters and minor celebrities there. We’re going to have to be as in love as physically possible. Get ready for PDA!”

“O-oh,” Papyrus sounded unsure. Mettaton felt a ripple of irritation course through himself. He didn’t have time for this. But Papyrus’ tone changed abruptly and he puffed out his chest, taking on a confident pose. “I mean, of course I am ready. I am the great Papyrus. I’m ready for anything, all the time. Especially PDA. I am very good at that.”

He sounded more like he was trying to assure himself than Mettaton.

 

* * *

 

Dinner went surprisingly well, for the most part. It wasn’t a sit down affair, there were multiple small buffet tables and guests were meant to move around and talk to one another instead of staying seated, which gave Mettaton plenty of excuses to wrap himself around Papyrus like a cat and pose for photographs for more people than he could count. It was an excellent place to gain visibility - which Mettaton didn’t need, being the only TV idol in the Underground, but he enjoyed anyways.

Papyrus, for his part, did an excellent job acting infatuated and adorable, leaning into Mettaton’s touches and almost never leaving his side. He took an earnest interest in the conversations struck up by eager young actors and reporters alike, which Mettaton never bothered to do, which allowed Mettaton to spend more time playing with and kissing his fingers, and blatantly ignoring everyone he considered beneath himself. Which was almost everyone. As much as Mettaton loved to talk about himself, he liked it on his terms. Being asked the same questions about how was so beautiful and successful was flattering, but it got boring fast.

Mettaton enjoyed seeing Papyrus blush whenever he raised the hand he was holding to his lips, and the way his speech would hitch for a fraction of a second, almost indiscernibly, before smoothing out again. Of course, he knew Papyrus’ reactions were probably genuine - he’d had no acting experience that Mettaton knew of - but he forced himself to remember that he’d probably react the same way to anyone. Papyrus was just innocent. Mettaton tried to keep himself focused on that, instead of the possibility that his reactions were specifically because it was Mettaton kissing the tips of his fingers.

Bored with his little kisses, Mettaton finally turned his attention to whoever Papyrus was talking to, which, in this case, appeared to be a young bunny actress. She was talking eagerly about her first acting gig earlier in the year, and, as boring a subject that seemed to Mettaton, Papyrus was nodding along, listening to her every word. Mettaton drew Papyrus close to him, nuzzling his collarbone through his scarf and watching the young actress skeptically. However boring this girl was to Mettaton, Papyrus did seem to be enjoying himself. Mettaton stood up from the little bar stool he’d been perched on, reaching his full height and resting his chin on Papyrus’ head.

“Darling?” Mettaton purred, tracing a finger along Papyrus’ jaw.

“Yes, Mettaton?” Papyrus held up a finger to the girl, even though she’d stopped talking as soon as Mettaton opened his mouth.

“I’m going to go freshen up, you’ll be alright with this…” Mettaton paused, looking the girl up and down. “Charming young lady, won’t you?”

“Of course, we’ve been having a delightful conversation, if you’ve noticed,” Papyrus said easily, smiling at the girl. Or perhaps he wasn’t - it was hard to tell with skeletons.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon, lovelies,” Mettaton said, stepping away. “Toodles!”

He hurried away, ducking into the small men’s restroom before anyone else could pull him into a conversation. Of course, Mettaton didn’t have any need for a restroom, but all that nuzzling wasn’t good for his hair and makeup. He leaned close to the mirror, inspecting himself. A resounding, unmistakeable sound of breaking glass startled him almost immediately though, and he jumped back, whirling around to face whoever made the sound.

“Hey there, chump,” the intruder said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning casually against the crumbling wall she’d just destroyed.

“U-undyne?” Mettaton backed away a little, eyeing the fish warrior’s toothy grin. She didn’t look friendly. He couldn’t figure out what Alphys could possibly see in her, but he thought he saw some physical similarities between himself and Undyne. He rolled his eyes.

“I saw that!” Undyne grabbed Mettaton by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Mettaton was very glad breathing wasn’t a necessary action. “Now, a little birdie called Sans told me you’re hanging out with my friend Papyrus.”

“Um, yes, you could say that, we have been spending time together.”

“In a… _romantic_ way,” Undyne continued, her pointed tongue flicking between crooked yellow teeth.

“Now, I don’t know about that, he’s just,” Mettaton searched for the right word. “He’s just helping me out of a sticky situation.”

“Nuh-uh, I saw you two fawnin’ over each other in there.”

“That’s the situation.” Mettaton kicked weakly, still dangling about a foot off the floor. “Would you - would you put me down? This is dreadfully undignified.”

“Oh, sure, no problem.” Undyne dropped him abruptly. Mettaton picked himself up and glared at her. “Go on.”

“Anyways, as I was saying, the situation was that a fan got uncomfortably close with me, I told them I was dating someone so they’d back off, and Papyrus was kind enough to be my fake boyfriend until the tabloids calm down about it all.”

“You didn’t look like fake boyfriends.”

“It’s called acting darling. It’s my job, I’m very good at it.”

Undyne squinted at him doubtfully. “I don’t know. Well, anyways, I came to say that if you hurt him at all I’m gonna kick your ass. Hell, I might do it anyways, just for the fun of it. But Alphys would be upset, so I’ll try to hold back unless you hurt my Paps.”

“Alright, alright, get in line with Sans,” Mettaton grumbled. “I’m not planning on hurting him we’re just going to fake date for a month or two and then move on with our lives like nothing happened.”

The bathroom fell quiet as Mettaton considered life after Papyrus left. It seemed a bit bleak. Undyne watched him, an odd look on her face.

“Well, anyways, if he _does_ get hurt by any of this, I will end you. Okay?” Undyne grabbed Mettaton again, pulling him into a headlock and noogieing him, hard. Mettaton scrunched up his face at the sensation. His pain sensors were duller than most monsters, but it was still unpleasant. “See ya. Good luck with that ‘acting’, punk.”

“I -” Mettaton started, when Undyne let go. But she was already charging out the Undyne sized hole in the wall, into the night. Mettaton left the bathroom, muttering to himself about how it was acting, wasn’t it?

Thankfully, the rest of the evening went smoothly. Mettaton talked to a few more reporters and aspiring actors, mostly about himself, and Papyrus seemed content to tag along, listening intently to everyone they talked to, and replying with more honesty than anyone in this business expected. They finally left when Mettaton felt the familiar buzz deep in his chest that meant his battery was getting low, staying on opposite sides of the limousine, silent as strangers.

Still, when Mettaton felt Papyrus’ arms come around him, and then hesitate, as if Papyrus were considering pulling them back, he clamped his own arm down over it before he shut down completely, and snuggled as close as he could to his fake boyfriend. Just in case the cleaners came early, he told himself, or someone with wings decided to fly up and spy on them. It was possible. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d forced Papyrus to spoon him. It was just nice, it didn’t have to mean anything.


	7. Chapter 7

When Mettaton restarted the next morning, Papyrus was already up, and the huge, canopied bed was carefully made around Mettaton. He slipped out, careful not to mess up Papyrus’ handiwork too much, and padded into the other room. Papyrus was seated at the little table, eating a muffin. 

“Where’d you get that?” Mettaton asked, pointing at it. 

“They brought up a whole basket,” Papyrus said, through a large bite. He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder, directing Mettaton’s eyes to the little kitchenette. Sure enough, there was a large basket of pastries, along with a bottle of champagne, and a little note. 

“ _For the happy couple_ ,” Mettaton read. “How sweet of them.” He picked up a croissant and took a delicate bite before putting it down again, not wanting to get crumbs on his face.

“Wasn’t it?” Papyrus agreed sincerely. “They came about an hour ago - I was going to wait for you to wake up, but I got hungry, and you seemed pretty out.”

“Yes, well, I do shut off at night,” Mettaton explained. “I can only be awoken if you flip this switch on my - wait a second, who came about an hour ago?”

“I assume it was room service,” Papyrus said, shrugging. “I didn’t ask. They were very nice. I mean, they did take my picture, which was surprising, but - well, I don’t blame them. I am quite a handsome skeleton, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, _balls_ ,” Mettaton swore, then covered his mouth, at Papyrus’ shocked expression. “Sorry, darling, I think that wasn’t room service.”

“Well, who then? Who would want to -” Papyrus’ eyes widened. “Oh.”

“They didn’t come in, did they? Damn it, I told that imbecile woman - what was it? Jenny? Mellisa? Oh, whatever - I told her not to let the paparazzi up here. I’ll have her fired -”

“Why? She seemed like a nice person, I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” Papyrus cut in, his brow bones drawing together. 

“Not everyone is as nice as you, Pap,” Mettaton said, flinging himself back onto the couch, one leg straight up. “She was probably bribed. That’s not good customer service. I want her punished for it.”

“But that’s not fair!”

“Why not? She didn’t do her job well - there should be consequences. If I didn’t do my job, I’d lose fans. I’d still be rich and gorgeous, of course, but - you get the idea.”

“Maybe they just snuck in,” Papyrus offered. “You don’t have to immediately blame Melinda.”

“Melinda? Who’s Melinda?”

“The woman at the front desk who you want fired,” Papyrus said patiently. 

“Oh yes. Hmm,” Mettaton sighed, pushing himself up to look at Papyrus. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You think so? Uh, I mean - o-of course I am, I am the great Papyrus.”

“Don’t get too cocky, Pap. I’m still giving her a piece of my mind,” Mettaton grumbled. He didn’t like being wrong. “But anyways, our first show is tonight. It’s Fashion with a Killer Robot.”

“Oh, I like that one!” Papyrus said eagerly. "I watch it every Tuesday with Sans. Well - he usually sleeps through it, actually."

“Well, this time you'll be on it. Your brother seems quite rude..." Mettaton trailed off, remembering his last and only encounter with Sans. He still wasn't sure if he should be wary of him or not. "Anyways, we’ll be judging four contestants tonight - that is, I will be. You just have to look cute and agree with me. At the end of the evening, I’ll chase the loser off the stage with a chainsaw, and the other three will be given their prizes - I was thinking you could do that, darling - and we’ll call it a night. But I assume you already knew that. You were a dedicated fan of mine, weren’t you?”

“I still am, Mettaton. Your shows are great!” Papyrus exclaimed sincerely. He shrugged before adding, “And you’re on every channel besides the infomercial channel, so there are always lots of choices.”

“Well, I couldn’t possibly leave my wonderful fans lacking anything, now could I? I wouldn’t want anyone to accidentally change channels and not see my beautiful face.” Mettaton sighed and struck a (relatively) humble pose. “Of course, it’s a lot of work, but that’s show business, you know?”

Papyrus nodded, even though he didn’t know.

“Alphys says some human stars just have their camerapeople follow them around constantly,” Mettaton went on, dreamily. “That’s real determination for you. She called it… realistic TV or something. Of course, I aspire to be as dedicated to performance as those humans, but - well, even a fabulous robot like myself needs some time to himself, for now. Oh well. Maybe someday.”

“That does seem difficult,” Papyrus agreed. Then, “Goodness, do other humans even watch them when they sleep? That seems awfully boring.”

“I - I don’t know actually,” Mettaton confessed. “Alphys didn’t say, but - I mean, I suppose so. Humans are very strange.”

“That’s true. I think the only monsters they still believe in are skeletons. Once I found a book in the dump from the human world, and there were a bunch of pictures of humans and skeletons and these... skinless humans, which I guess are human enough that they let them stay on the surface. It was very perplexing."

“Well, that’s just absurd,” Mettaton said, shaking his head. “I mean, why would they remember skeletons and nothing else? That must have been planted to trick you. I know a lot about humans, that just doesn't make sense.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re probably right," Papyrus agreed, sounding a little disappointed. "Humans are pretty weird, but I suppose there has to be a line somewhere.”

“Sorry, Pap, even humans probably aren’t quite that weird.” Mettaton stood up and patted Papyrus’ shoulder sympathetically. “Anyways, is there anything you want to do today? We’ve got some time before the show. Anything you’d like, my treat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaahh sorry this is so short >


	8. Chapter 8

“Mettaton, are you sure I have to wear this?” Papyrus asked, stepping out of his dressing room, an unusual amount of uncertainty displayed on his bony features. As per Mettaton’s request, he was dressed almost completely in pink and black, in an outfit not unlike Mettaton’s own Ex body.

“It’s an MTT trademark, darling,” Mettaton explained. He, of course, was back in his old body, another MTT trademark of sorts, regardless of how much he might dislike it. He rolled back and forth on his wheel impatiently, his gloved, three-fingered hands clasped in front of him. The lack of one of his fingers really made a difference, he thought, probably for the thousandth time.

“But it’s so…” Papyrus trailed off, tugging at the tight spandex at his wrist. “Itchy.”

“How does that even work? You don’t have skin!” Mettaton exclaimed.

“Neither do you,” Papyrus shot back. Mettaton opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“Touche.”

Papyrus _nyeh_ ed proudly.

“Whenever you boys are ready,” a stagehand cut in, leaning against a wall and arching one eyebrow sarcastically.

“Oh, quit it,” Mettaton huffed at the stagehand, but he grabbed Papyrus’ hand and gave it a squeeze before tugging him onstage. “That’s right, beauties and gentlebeauties, it’s your favorite, beautiful, Me, here for your viewing pleasure!”

The audience screamed. Mettaton let go of Papyrus’ hand to twirl, before seizing it again and pressing it to his screen, which showed a throbbing red heart. It was the closest he could get to kissing it, in this form.

“And look, I have a very special guest tonight!” he continued, reaching up with his free hand to show off Papyrus.

“Hello, new friends! I am the Great Papyrus, supreme spaghettoire and Mettaton’s amazing boyfriend!” Papyrus said eagerly. He wrenched his hand free of Mettaton’s and waved at the audience before Mettaton could grab it again.

“Yes, and isn’t he lovely,” Mettaton gave a sultry chuckle and patted Papyrus’ hand. “As you all know, Papyrus is our special guest judge for tonight’s episode of Fashion with a Killer Robot!” Mettaton paused as the theme played and glitter fell from the ceiling. Papyrus, tilting his head back to watch the confetti, got some in his eye sockets and shook his head violently to expel it. Mettaton cringed inwardly. “Now, I know, guest judges are usually introduced right before the first judgement panel, but, since this one is my sugar skull of a boyfriend, I simply couldn’t wait. You darlings don’t mind, do you?”

Another wave of cheering. Mettaton put up a hand to shush his fans before continuing. Papyrus mimicked him, even though he wasn’t the one speaking, and Mettaton caught himself thinking his serious expression and amateurish stage personality was rather cute.

“I thought you wouldn’t,” Mettaton said finally, shooing his mind away from his handsome cohost and back to the task at hand. “Well, why don’t we bring out our contestants, then? Come on out, lovelies! Now, as you beauties in the audience must know, this is a new set. We’ve got four brand new contestants. Welcome, you four! Why don’t you gorgeous fashionistas introduce yourselves?”

They stepped forward individually, introducing themselves as Marcus, Samuael, Mirni, and Jem, respectively. Papyrus greeted each monster with full sincerity, giving them each a firm handshake and a big smile. Not wanting to be one upped on his own show, Mettaton did the same, even though it wasn’t usually part of the routine.

“Well, I suppose you all know the rules, but I’ll go over them anyways. Papyrus and I are going on a date, and I need something to wear. You’ll each have unlimited access to the sewing closet, of course, and you have each been given an MTT-patented Mettaquin, to arrange your creation on. And - here’s the kicker - you’ve only got two hours to design and create your wearable masterpiece. And that time starts -” the contestants shifted in place, ready to make a run for the sewing closet - “Now!”

The contestants charged at the sewing closet in a horde, and Mettaton rolled over to the little judges’ table, patting the seat next to him as a way of invitation for Papyrus. He clicked off his microphone before reaching to do the same to Papyrus’.

“What are you doing that for?” Papyrus half whispered, eyeing Mettaton’s hand where it lingered near his collarbone after switching off the hidden mic.

“Well, I can’t have the whole audience hear everything we’re saying, now can I?” Mettaton explained, finally taking his hand back with a final caress of Papyrus’ cheekbone that was only partially for show. “I just wanted to tell you you’re doing well so far.”

“Of course I am, I’m a natural people person. People skeleton? Monster… skele...?” Papyrus trailed off, looking confused.

“Of course you are, darling,” Mettaton agreed, with a choreography-perfect giggle. He patted Papyrus’ hand patronisingly, his own round, cartoonish fingers contrasting starkly with Papyrus’ slender, bony ones. He gestured down at the busy contestants. “Well, as long as we’ve got time to kill, I’m going to go get in the way down there. Want to come?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Four… Three… Two… Annnnnd, that’s it, lovelies!” Mettaton’s voice boomed out over the stage. “If I catch anyone trying to make any last minute adjustments now that the time is up, they’ll be automatically _disqualified_.” The way he said it implied that disqualified was really not something anyone would want. He clasped his hands together and rolled forward, toward the first contestant, Marcus. “Now, show me my outfits!”

“Well, you see, since you didn’t specify what sort of date you’d be going on, I thought I’d make something transformative. It can either be a cute, informal sundress, or - just undo these little clasps here - a beautiful, shimmering evening gown. And, of course, I couldn’t leave your handsome date with nothing, so I included a matching scarf for Papyrus.” Marcus finished his explanation and stood back, looking proud.

“Hmm,” Mettaton circled the now-full length dress, his screen filled with little bobbling question marks.

“Well, I think it’s great. Don’t you agree, Mettaton?” Papyrus was already trying on the scarf. “This isn’t usually my color, but I think it’ll work.”

“Patience, darling, we have to see the others,” Mettaton said, coming around from the back of the dress. “I did notice some loose threads in the back, which you’ll lose points for, but the overall idea is clever, the color suits me - but then again, every color does - and the scarf for Paps was a nice touch.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Marcus wrung his scaled hands, claws ticking.

“Any words, Papyrus?”

“I think it’s lovely,” Papyrus said, beaming and still holding onto his scarf. “Positively splendiferous. I especially like that you made me a scarf. I usually wear one, but Mettaton didn’t -”

“Thank you, dear,” Mettaton cut him off with a hand on his hip. “We both agree, then, you’ve done an excellent job. We have to move on now, let’s see what the others have for me.”

Mettaton moved on to the next contestant, Samuael. They grinned nervously, muttering a “Hi, Mettaton,” before tugging the plain sheet off their creation and stepping back a little.

Mettaton looked over the flashy, magenta-sequined suit, rubbing a hand where his chin would be, if he had one. Finally, he turned back to its nervous creator. “Well, darling, aren’t you going to tell me about it?”

“Oh! Of course, my apologies,” Samuael stumbled over their words, blushing a dark purple under their mossy fur. “It’s uh, a suit that complements your favored Ex form - or at least, the mannequin version of it anyways - and, um, I know you like to stand out, so I made sure to make the suit shine as bright as you do.”

“I see,” Mettaton said slowly. “Now, while I do like my clothes to - hm, shine as bright as I do, as you say - this… does not. I like the sequins, I like the fit of the suit, it just… doesn’t quite make the cut, I don’t think. I don’t know. I’ll have to see the others.”

“I understand. Sorry, Mettaton,” Samuael barely whispered. Mettaton turned away but Papyrus lingered for a moment.

“I think it looks great,” Papyrus said to the dejected contestant, for all the theater to hear. Mettaton’s head shot up.

“What was that, darling?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with the suit, it looks nice to me,” Papyrus said, at Mettaton’s sharp question.

“Hm. Well - um, why don’t we have a short break before going on to the next contestant, hmm?” Mettaton said quickly, taking Papyrus’ hand. “Show business is nothing without suspense, am I right, beauties and gentlebeauties?” There was no answer from the audience. “Right. Yes, I think that would be good. A ten minute intermission. Go on, then. Legally required breaks, and all that.”

The curtains closed, the contestants milled around as stagehands offered them water and snacks, and Mettaton practically dragged Papyrus back to the dressing rooms, flicking off their microphones with a little more aggression than necessary.

“Remind me, darling, what did I say your job was in this show again, Papyrus?” Mettaton said, his voice almost venomous.

“My job is to look cute and agree with you,” Papyrus replied, with the air of a student reciting a lesson. “I know. I’m an excellent listener.”

“And what did you just do out there?”

“I know, I disagreed with you, but they just looked so sad, I wanted to say something to cheer them up.” Papyrus looked down at his shiny, patent leather shoes. “As a friend, I -”

“They’re not your friends, Pap, they’re just here for the money, and to meet me. There are no friends in this business,” Mettaton said, before Papyrus could finish.

“That’s awful! I consider everyone I meet a potential friend.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t afford to do that. But this is beside the point. The point is, you’re supposed to agree with me! That’s half of your job here!”

“I don’t see why I can’t have my own opinions, especially if they’re nice ones.” Papyrus crossed his arms, sounding sulky.

“Listen, just - just do what I tell you, okay? It’ll be easier for the both of us.”

“Okay, Mettaton,” Papyrus said, more quiet than usual.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I just - I don’t know. Just do as I say, please,” Mettaton begged. Papyrus said nothing. The little light warning performers it was time to go onstage blinked on, and Mettaton pointed at it. “Come on, it’s almost time to get back onstage.”

They sped through the last two contestants - a blue leotard ensemble with cat ears, and a little black dress, embroidered with tiny, sparkly, Mettatons, respectively - with Papyrus staying unusually quiet, and Mettaton being eager to get it over with. He knew the first dress was this week’s winner. Finally, it was time to announce it, and Mettaton clapped his hands once to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, my darlings, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Who gets the gold, and who gets the chainsaw!” Mettaton paused as the audience screamed. It was a little disturbing how eager they were for dust. Of course, he didn’t actually kill any of the contestants, but - well, they didn’t know that. “Now, as you may have guessed, Marcus, with that lovely, transforming dress and the matching scarf for my darling loverboy, is our winner of the evening. He will be spending the next week in the winner’s mansion, until the next episode, when he’ll be thrown right back in here with the other two. Marcus, come on up and get your keys from Papyrus.”

Papyrus handed over the rhinestone-encrusted keychain obediently, amidst the cheering of the audience and the polite clapping of the other contestants, with his customary friendly smile.

“And here’s what you’ve _really_ been waiting for. We’re all happy for dear Marcus here, yes, but the really exciting part is who loses. Now, of you three who are left - honestly, I had little problems with all of your creations, but one really stuck out as the least appropriate.” Mettaton paused for effect. “That’s right, Mirni, I know, you’d all love to see me in a cute kitty leotard, but for a date? Really? That’s a bit tasteless. I mean, maybe for after the date, but not as an outfit. Get ready to run, Mirni!”

With that, Mettaton was off, pulling his chainsaw out from goodness-knows-where and peeling across the stage, his little wheel leaving a trail of smoke. Papyrus grinned awkwardly as Mettaton sped offstage, after the screaming Mirni.

“Well, Samuael and Jem, it looks like it’s up to me to give you your keys,” Papyrus said, holding them out. “You both get to stay in the runners up lodge, until you either win or lose a match. I’m sure you know the rules.”

The two nodded as they took their keys and went offstage, leaving just Papyrus in front of the audience. He stood silently for a moment, before sitting down on the floor and talking to the audience.

“So, new friends, how do you all like spaghetti?”

“Never fear, Mettaton is here!” Mettaton called, hurrying back onstage before the audience had time to react to Papyrus’ attempts at conversation. He’d changed into his Ex form, and the winning dress, before being carefully splashed dust offstage. “Darlings, I’m afraid it’s time for this night to end. Paps and I have a very special date to go on.”

“You guys should kiss!” someone from the audience screamed. Mettaton’s screen lit up in a bright red blush.

“I don’t know, this is a family show -” Mettaton started, but the crowd began to chant. He glanced at Papyrus helplessly, getting the slightest of nods in return.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

“Oh, alright, just for you beautiful monsters,” Mettaton relented. “Come here, darling.”

Mettaton leaned in for a light peck - he didn’t want to overstep Papyrus’ boundaries too much - but, still adjusting to his new body, tripped over his own feet and his long skirt and found himself pressed tightly against Papyrus, who had instinctively reached to steady him, grabbing the delicate material of Mettaton’s gown in tight fists. Papyrus’ teeth felt smooth and cool against Mettaton’s lips - an unusual but not unpleasant sensation. Not wanting to give away his own clumsiness, Mettaton made his sudden lunge seem intentional, reaching to caress Papyrus’ face before pulling back a few inches. He gazed down into Papyrus’ wide, surprised eye sockets, letting his lips quirk up into a sly grin.

“Well,” Mettaton said softly, more of a sigh than a word. On impulse, Mettaton ducked his head down for a second, minuscule kiss before he pulled away completely, remembering that this was all for show. It meant nothing. Despite his vast audience, and Papyrus' hand still tightly grasping his waist, he felt more alone than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaahh, I'm sorry this has taken so long yall. I've been busy and also buried under thirty tons of writer's block. It's like a fricking ball pit of writer's blocks, the more I struggle the deeper I sink. But I finally managed to get this done, so... uh, lemme know what you thought, I guess. I always love hearing from you guys.


	9. Chapter 9

Mettaton couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Papyrus. He’d clammed up after the show, but he allowed Papyrus to flip the switch on his back once they were backstage, stretching out into his more comfortable body and wrapping his new arms around his own waist almost immediately, deep in thought. The ride back to the hotel was a quiet one, and Mettaton was glad he’d thought to bring his own driver, who he knew wouldn’t spread any gossip. 

The silence spread all the way up to the hotel room, too, though Mettaton wrapped his arm around Papyrus’ shoulders to pass through the lobby, and, once they were in the elevator, found he did not want to let go, so he didn’t. Papyrus made no complaint, so they spent the short ride pressed close together, Papyrus resting his head timidly on Mettaton’s shoulder around floor three, and Mettaton taking that as a good enough reason to gently caress his shoulder blade with his thumb, around floor five. They pulled away reluctantly when the door finally opened at the top floor, and made the short walk to their room, each thoroughly lost in his own thoughts of the other. 

At least, that’s what Mettaton hoped. He was, of course, lost in thoughts of Papyrus. He hoped Papyrus was the same, but he couldn’t be sure. As soon as the door was open, Mettaton made a beeline for the bed, collapsing onto it and curling up, pushing his pink boots off with his toes and cuddling a pillow to his chest, as he wished he could Papyrus. 

Papyrus, for his part, quietly moved around the suite, in and out of the bedroom, for a short while, and Mettaton watched him through his lashes, wondering what he was doing. Finally, Papyrus turned out the lights and joined him, and Mettaton rolled over to make room, turning his back on Papyrus. 

“It’s warm where you were,” Papyrus said finally, his voice quiet in the dark hotel room. 

“Yes, Alphys built me to emit a gentle heat, to mimic that of the living monster,” Mettaton said back, not turning over. He decided to leave out the fact that he was so warm on this particular night because he was thinking about Papyrus so much, and his circuits tended to get overheated with high levels of emotion. 

“S’nice of her to do that.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty nice. I mean, she made me a body.”

“Huh?”

“She made me, I mean. Made me. And by extension my body. Yeah,” Mettaton corrected himself quickly, remembering how little Papyrus actually knew about him. It was odd, he felt so close, and yet he knew so little - hardly more than any other fan. Mettaton felt himself frowning, clenching the pillow he held a little tighter. 

“I see,” Papyrus said, after a moment, though there wasn’t really anything to see. Then, “hey, are you okay, Mettaton?”

Mettaton wasn’t expecting that. He thought for a moment, trying to decide how best to answer. He’d be honest, he decided. He could use someone to actually talk to. “Yes, Papyrus, I’m just fine.”

Darnit. That wasn’t honest. 

“Well, alright,” Papyrus said, sounding doubtful. “I hope you know that, should you ever not be okay, not like you are now, the great Papyrus is here for you. I may be your fake boyfriend, but I am also your very real friend, okay?”

“Sure, thanks.” Mettaton tried to keep bitterness from his voice. You don’t get friends with a job like this. 

“Really, I am,” Papyrus insisted. He shifted, and the bed rocked a little with his movement. 

“You hardly even know me.” Mettaton rolled over to face him, and found that the movement before was Papyrus scooting closer. Mettaton rested his head on his hands, his face just a few inches from Papyrus’. 

“Hardly knowing you doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Papyrus said, almost in a whisper, and Mettaton could feel his breath when he spoke. “Besides, I know what a person - a robot, that is - needs a friend looks like.”

“Do you now?”

“I, the great and impeccably empathetic Papyrus, most certainly do.” A pause. Mettaton stared at Papyrus for a moment. “I’m a very good friend.”

“Well, maybe you’re right,” he conceded finally. “Thanks, Paps.”

“Anything for a new pal.”

“Alright, well,” Mettaton felt the mechanics in his throat seize a little, and mentally cursed Alphys for designing him with such state of the art emotion-display capabilities. He swallowed several times, hoping Papyrus wouldn’t question the pause. “Listen, I’d love to continue this, but my battery’s almost gone. I’d like to shut off and get some rest, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay. The great Papyrus will shut up now.”

“Goodnight, Papyrus. And… thank you, really.” Mettaton wanted to continue, but he’d already begun shutting down, and he heard his voice glitch on the last word, his usual sensual tone mangled. “I… thanks.”

The last thing Mettaton felt before falling into his version of sleep was Papyrus rubbing his upper arm affectionately, bony fingers slipping against metal. After that, Papyrus slipped out of bed, padding in his thick socks to the other room and turning on the television, letting Mettaton’s almost-mute voice wash over him while he thought.

He didn’t sleep much, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm updating this like once a week. I didn't mean for that to happen but it is. Well, see ya next weekend I guess.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite Papyrus’ insistence that he could, Mettaton did not open up to him. He cuddled and kissed and pampered Papyrus onstage and in public, showering him with gifts and affection and anything else Papyrus could possibly want. He let his displays of affection linger a few breaths too long when they finally got out of the spotlight, half hoping Papyrus wouldn’t notice, and half rather desperately hoping he would, but he still shied away from any unnecessary emotional intimacy. Every time Papyrus, still nestled against his chest in a tight hug moments after the curtain had closed, or squeezing his hand reassuringly in the backseat of the limo, would insist he was there for Mettaton, he was trustworthy, he was a _friend_ , Mettaton felt his guard drop a little. He’d gulp back confessions a little slower each time, staring at the horizon until Papyrus would comment gently that he’d squeezed his hand too tight, or that he was wrinkling the material of that cute little scarf he always wore, and Mettaton would mumble an apology and change the subject to something safer, like the weather or what the tabloids were saying about them.

It worked, at least for a while. And nobody seemed to suspect that their relationship was an act, at least so far. And Mettaton managed to keep himself from doing anything to make a fool of himself. 

At least until now. 

It was nothing out of the ordinary. Wednesdays were always Mettaton’s day off, and, after a week  
that felt like a century of being out in public selling their couply act to the fans at every waking moment, both Mettaton and Papyrus felt like they could use a break. Of course, Mettaton enjoyed being the center of attention, and so did Papyrus, but they both had to admit that being fake-in-love all the time was exhausting. A day away from the paparazzi was a nice change of pace. 

Mettaton woke up to find Papyrus already out of bed and on the couch as usual, only today he was asleep, his head drooped comically to the side and his jaws open a little. Mettaton looked at him for a moment, then shook his shoulder to try to wake him before flopping down on the opposite end of the couch. He delicately pried the remote out of Papyrus’ hand, flipping through channels, looking for any reruns old enough to not include Papyrus. As much as Mettaton enjoyed his own face, he didn’t really feel like seeing his own face looking lovingly at Papyrus’ at the moment. 

“Mmngh,” Papyrus said suddenly, sitting up. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Mettaton said, glancing away from himself, explaining how to weave baskets out of recycled human garbage.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Papyrus said, frowning at Mettaton and rubbing his eyes.

“Oh? You just ignored me when I shook you a few minutes ago for fun then? That’s kind of rude.” Mettaton arched one perfectly painted eyebrow at him, before turning back to his channel surfing. 

“I - um - no! Wait a second, that isn’t -” Papyrus stuttered, before falling silent, his cheekbones flushed orange. 

“You know, you’re cute when you’re asleep,” Mettaton blurted out, mostly without meaning to. He kept his eyes fixed on the television once he realised what he’d said, fighting to keep his face neutral. 

“I am? I mean, it shouldn’t be a surprise, I am the great and ever so adorable Papyrus, loved by all he meets, but - a genuine compliment, from a talented and equally cute robot superstar - wowie!” Papyrus sounded delighted. He leaned toward Mettaton, his face eager. “Do you really think I am cute?” 

“O-of course I do, darling, I wouldn’t have picked you as my fake boyfriend if you weren’t at least somewhat attractive!” Yes. _Fake_ boyfriend. Emphasis on fake. As in, not someone he should be flirting with. He was really just digging himself into a hole here, wasn’t he. Mettaton mentally kicked himself, feeling his fans start to whir as he processed Papyrus’ equally genuine compliment. This shouldn’t be affecting him so much. He was used to people telling him he was gorgeous, and talented, of course Papyrus would too, why should it be any different from any other fan? 

“Hmm, I suppose you have a point,” Papyrus said thoughtfully. “Still! Thank you. What a pleasant way to wake up.”

“So you were sleeping!” Mettaton said, gleefully, turning on the couch and propping his legs on Papyrus’ lap, eager to change the subject. “I knew it!”

“I - um. Nyeh, fine, I was,” Papyrus admitted.

“It’s our day off. Anything you particularly want to do?” Mettaton continued. He felt a smug sort of satisfaction when Papyrus took a moment, staring at Mettaton’s pink and black legs, before answering. 

“I can’t think of anything, no. Anything _you_ particularly want to do?”

Mettaton fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was beyond this childish conversation. What he really wanted to do was spend the day right where they were on the couch, only considerably closer to Papyrus, but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. They were only fake dating, not real dating, and you don’t cuddle with your fake boyfriend when no one is around to see. 

“Not really, that’s why I asked you, sugar,” Mettaton said, his tone borderline passive aggressive.

“We could just stay in?” _Perfect._ Mettaton feigned indifference, glancing down at his black-enamelled nails like he’d seen human stars in Alphys’ shows, even though his were metal, and there wasn’t a chance of imperfection. 

“I suppose we could.” He put his hand down and looked at Papyrus from under heavy eyelids, lips forming a kissable almost-pout before he could stop them. Damn it, he was trying to be reserved and out of reach, why was he doing this? Cursing himself, he licked his lips and hurriedly changed the subject. “We could order room service. Do you want anything? Do you actually even need to eat?”

“Well - no, I’m a skeleton,” Papyrus admitted. “I don’t have a stomach, look!” He hitched up his loose, _Bone-afied cutie!_ t-shirt to prove it, and Mettaton stared for a moment before nodding. Papyrus dropped his shirt and leaned back against the couch with a sigh.

“Sorry, darling, I guess that was a bit of a dumb question,” Mettaton admitted. “I did just wake up, not all my programs are running smoothly just yet.”

“It was a little bit dumb,” Papyrus agreed, nodding. “I do enjoy eating, though. Even though I can’t really taste. And cooking. I’m getting cooking lessons, you know.”

“You can’t taste?”

“Not really. I can taste things very faintly, but my tongue is made of magic, and magic doesn’t have taste buds,” Papyrus explained, leaning closer and sticking it out for Mettaton’s inspection. “It’s mostly for talking.”

“I see.” Mettaton could think of some things besides talking he could do with Papyrus’ tongue. No, wait, why was he thinking like that? This was his fake boyfriend, not some backstage fangirl! His fans whirred in his stomach and he coughed behind his hand to cover the sound. “Want to know a secret?”

“Of course I do! That would make our friendship stronger, would it not?” Papyrus said, his tone morphing from excited to thoughtful mid-phrase. 

“Well,” Mettaton said confidentially. “I can’t really taste either. And if I eat I have to go see Alphys and get her to clean out my chest cavity, because I don’t actually have a digestive system.”

“Couldn’t you do it yourself?” 

“No, I have to be shut off. And I’m -” He bit back the rest of the sentence before it escaped. - _incorporeal in my natural form._

“Ah,” Papyrus said, nodding. “That sounds pretty inconvenient.”

Mettaton shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she made me that way so I’ll have to go back and visit her sometimes. She gets lonely all by herself in that big lab.”

“Undyne likes her. They hang out all the time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mettaton said boredly. “She calls me every time Undyne comes over. She’s got a big ol’ crush on her.”

“Really?” Papyrus sounded genuinely surprised. “I had no idea! I don’t think Undyne knows.”

“Well, that’s the eighth wonder of the underground, Alphy isn't exactly subtle,” Mettaton said dryly. 

“We should get them together.” Papyrus sat up straighter, his face eager. He was cute when he was excited too, apparently. Mettaton made a mental note to slap himself a couple times for thinking like that.

“It could be good for Alphys,” he said slowly, thinking of his timid, lonely friend. It couldn’t hurt to try, could it? But not now, they were busy now. “I suppose we could give it a shot. But after the tour, alright darling?”

“You want to keep hanging out with me after we fake break up?” Papyrus asked, incredulous, and Mettaton felt his breath hitch. He hadn’t even considered that, he’d just sort of forgotten that there had been a time when he didn’t know Papyrus. Papyrus bounced happily on the sofa. “I knew it! I knew I could get through to you! I know a face that needs a friend.”

“I - yes, I think I do,” Mettaton found himself saying, a little surprised. But he’d been saying so many things he didn’t mean to, lately, he really should be used to it. He shook his head and smiled a little - a real, if slightly weak smile, not just a dazzling TV one. “You were right, Paps. I do need a friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to cal for being a bro/buttering me up enough to make me feel motivated to finish this chapter lmao. what's romance what's feelings what's a mettaton I can't handle this I'm so aro


	11. Chapter 11

Mettaton and Papyrus spent most of the day on the couch, alternating between talking eagerly about how to set up their two best friends, and lapsing into comfortable silences, distracted by the mumble of the television. At some point, the woman from the desk came by, with a little tray of petits fours, peering in over Mettaton’s shoulder as he leaned against the side of the doorway. After that, eating the tiny cakes - and, in Papyrus’ case, exclaiming wondrously at all of their miniature, ornate decorations - was added to the mix.

Mettaton chewed one thoughtfully now, only half listening to Papyrus’ plan to trick Undyne and Alphys into working together to escape a puzzle, and, when they found themselves stuck, having no choice but to confess their feelings to one another.

“Darling, I can’t think of a better idea myself,” Mettaton said when Papyrus paused for breath. We could even put it on TV. I can see it now - Lovers in a Dangerous Puzzle, the hot new MTT show!”

“Well - I don’t know if they would agree to that -” Papyrus started, but Mettaton pressed a finger to his mouth, leaning in and kissing him between the eyes impulsively.

“Pap, my sweet, what’s the good of drama without an audience? I know I can get my Alphy to agree, and - Undyne can’t be that bad, can she?”

“Mm,” Papyrus said, Mettaton’s finger still pressed to his teeth. Mettaton let his hand fall back into his lap. “I don’t know about that - Undyne’s pretty, um. Stubborn.”

“So am I, lovely.” Mettaton’s lips stretched into a fierce grin worthy of the fish warrior herself. “We’ll find a way.” Just as he said that, the familiar jingle of his most popular show (“Jazzercise with MTT!”) sounded, slightly muffled, announcing a call from his manager. Mettaton rolled his eyes and popped open the little compartment in his thigh where he kept his phone, answering it with an annoyed, _“What.”_

“It’s my day off, you know better than this,” Mettaton said, peevishly, when his manager replied. He picked up another petit four and examined it as he listened to his manager, before popping it into his mouth and licking the melting icing off his fingers, eyes on Papyrus, who glanced away quickly. Then, after a huffy sort of half sigh half grunt, “Fine, alright. I’ll go. Just make sure she knows this isn’t what I want. _Please,_ don’t call again.”

“Wow,” Papyrus said, when Mettaton hung up and shoved his phone back into his thigh compartment, probably with more force than necessary.

“Hmm?”

“He must have been pretty mean to get you that worked up,” Papyrus observed. “Maybe you should get a new manager.”

“Oh, no, he just asked me if we could go to dinner with the woman who runs my clothing line tonight,” Mettaton replied, his voice slipping back to its usual smooth, almost sultry tone. “Maybe I should fire him though - he should know better than to call me on my day off.”

“I doubt he meant any harm by it. Maybe this dinner is important.”

“Nothing is too important to wait until I’ve had my day to rest,” Mettaton said, but Papyrus had a point. Damn it, why was he always so _nice_? Mettaton was a celebrity, he was allowed to - no, supposed to have his way all the time! What gave this overly friendly skeleton the right to make him feel bad for it?

“Well, you still have most of the day. It’s only dinner, right?” Papyrus said, his tone placating.

“Yes, only dinner. But still. My family - I mean, I, need time to myself, sometimes.”

“I am sure you’ll manage. You’re the most charismatic person I know!” Papyrus paused for a moment before adding, “Besides maybe myself. But I’d say we’re at least tied.”

“You’re sweet to say so, Pap,” Mettaton said, patting his knee, before reaching for the plate of petits fours, offering it to Papyrus before choosing a green one decorated with little pink cherry blossoms for himself. _Just like in Alphys’ silly animes_ , he found himself thinking, as he popped the little cake into his mouth. It had a delicious center of raspberry jam, and the light cake was smooth and tasted faintly of almonds.

Unfortunately, not everything was as smooth as the petit four. A little, familiar, yellow light showed up in the upper right corner of Mettaton’s vision, and he felt his soul drop in its glass case.

“Oh, no,” Mettaton whispered, standing up and spitting the rest of the petit four into his hand. Normally, he wouldn’t dare do something this uncivilized in front of anyone, but this was an emergency.

Papyrus, confused, shot up from the couch as well, his wide eyes darting from Mettaton’s worried face to the half chewed cake in his hand. “What’s wrong? What happened? Have we been poisoned? I mean, I can’t be poisoned, I don’t have any of the right organs - or any organs, for that matter, but have you been poisoned? Oh, no, the hotel will be so embarrassed!”

“No, no, darling, nothing like that,” Mettaton reassured him, shaking the handful of soggy pastry into the garbage and eyeing it with a look of disgust.

He walked to the bathroom, forcing himself to act calm, and rinsed his hand, Papyrus hovering in the doorway beside him. Mettaton took a deep breath before continuing, his voice falsely light. “I just ate too much. And I can’t call Alphys, she’s too far away. I didn’t think - those petit fours were so small, I - oh, I’m an idiot!” Mettaton flung himself into Papyrus’ arms dramatically, letting Papyrus rub his back soothingly.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Papyrus said honestly. “Those cakes were very good - you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“But we have a dinner tonight!” Mettaton wailed. “And you know what monsters do at dinners? They eat!”

“M-maybe you can just pretend to? You are a fantastic actor,” Papyrus suggested.

“Well, sure, it’s easy to lie to a camera, but I can’t just not eat! Someone will notice for sure.”

“Just throw one of your tantrums and say the food isn’t good enough.”

“I’m offended that you would suggest that. I don’t throw tantrums. But I - I think I know what needs to be done,” Mettaton said resolutely. “You have to do it. Please, Papyrus, I can’t embarrass myself at this dinner.”

“What? But I don’t know how -” Papyrus protested, confused.

“That’s okay, I’ll help you,” Mettaton said quickly.

“But you’ll be shut off!”

“I -” Mettaton steeled himself. This was it. He had no choice but to tell Papyrus the truth. “I haven’t been totally honest with you, Pap, dear. Or anyone, actually. You have to keep what I’m about to tell you a secret, alright?”

“Of course, Mettaton, you know you can trust me,” Papyrus said gently. “I would never betray a friend’s trust.”

“I know, Pap. I trust you.” A final deep, calming breath. _Okay, here goes nothing “_ I’m a ghost.”

“Uh, no, Mettaton, you’re a robot,” Papyrus said slowly, sounding worried. “Are you quite sure those petits fours weren’t poisoned? Is the poison messing with your programming?”

“No, Papyrus, they weren’t poisoned, I’m perfectly sane, I promise. I am a ghost. And this - well, Alphys and I had an agreement of sorts, that she would make me a body, and I would pretend she had actually created me, soul and all, getting her the attention she needed to land the job of being the royal scientist. Of course, she is a dear friend to me, but you see, she is also a… business partner, of sorts. Look, I’ll shut off and show you. But you cannot tell anyone, okay?”

“I know, a promise is a promise. I won’t let you down, Mettaton,” Papyrus reassured him. “Should you… shut off, in any particular place?”

“Hm, I - well, normally I’d do this on Alphys’ worktable, but here - um,” Mettaton felt nervous. He wondered if this was what being naked in public felt like to people who weren’t naked in public as often a he was. Not having anything to hide behind clothes, he seldom wore them, unless it was for a photo op or something.

After some debate, they settled on the bathtub, on the basis that it would be the easiest to clean up, and Mettaton eased himself into it, laying on his back with his arms by his sides and closing his eyes.

“Okay, I’m going to do it now. It’ll only be a second, and then I’ll be out,” he said, not sure if he was explaining to reassure himself or Papyrus. He forced himself to relax, willing himself to shut off. Alphys hadn’t built him with a switch - for obvious safety reasons - so unless he was plugged in, which forced him to shut off and restart when his battery was fully charged, this was purely a state of mind. Just relax, focus, and -

_There._ Mettaton felt his soul detach from his body with a rather sickening pop. He never quite got used to that feeling. He preferred to stay in his body whenever possible, partly because he never quite felt like himself as a ghost, partly because the getting in and out process was uncomfortable. But this was an emergency. Mettaton allowed his soul to detach, felt it puff out like a little pink balloon until it formed the shape of a small, pink ghost. He floated up, until he was at eye level with Papyrus, whose mouth had dropped open a little.

“Well?” Mettaton said, reaching instinctively to wrap his arms protectively around his middle, before remembering that he had none. Well, he had those little nubby things on the sides of his body, but he hardly counted those. They were basically useless, anyways, considering they phased right through everything he might want to touch. And they didn’t nearly reach far enough to wrap around himself. “No need to stare, Pap, I’m self conscious enough as it is.”

“Right,” Papyrus said finally, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get to work, then.”

“Right,” Mettaton repeated. He floated over his body, pointing with one pathetic arm at his chestplate. “That this off.There’s a little tab thingie over here, if you lift it the whole thing should pop right off.”

“Okay.” Papyrus knelt by the tub and reached in, his hand hesitation for a moment before dipping down, fingers curling under the pink plastic. “I think I found it.”

Sure enough, the chestplate popped off, revealing all of Mettaton’s inner circuitry. A mess of wires took up most of the lower half of his chest, but through the top Mettaton could just see the gears that moved his arms, as well as the little compartment that stored food, nestled in the middle of his chest. Papyrus pointed to it.

“Is this…?” He trailed off, and Mettaton nodded tightly.

“Mm. It um - it unscrews,” Mettaton almost whispered. He watched, feeling more embarrassed than he ever had before, it seemed, as Papyrus reached in gingerly and lifted out the little silicon bag. Mettaton felt awful. “Sorry about this. Just, um, empty it out into the sink, I guess. If you put a little warm water and soap in and put it back my body will clean it automatically, but we’ll have to wait about half an hour. It does have some emergency autonomy.”

Papyrus nodded and did so, while Mettaton hovered, both horrified that Papyrus had to do this, and nervous about leaving his own body’s side. He didn’t want anything to happen to it. Finally, Papyrus finished up and sat back on his heels, looking for Mettaton’s approval as the familiar hum hiss of machinery started up, signifying Mettaton’s body was doing its job.

“Okay, that’s all.” Mettaton lingered for a moment, before floating to the door and out, hovering above the couch. Papyrus followed, cocking his head to the side and watching him oddly. “What?”

“Sorry for staring. It’s just - you’re cute!” Papyrus said, surprising Mettaton. He backed away a little. He hadn’t expected that. “You’re so small! I didn’t think - oh, and you’re pink, that is just splendiferous. Oh, Mettaton, I’ve never met such a cute ghost before. I mean, I’ve never met any ghost before, but -"

“You really think so?” Mettaton certainly didn’t agree. This form was the opposite of what he wanted.

“I didn’t want to say anything before, because I didn’t want to mess anything up, but, yes. I do.” Papyrus spoke firmly. “Not that that should matter at all, I can tell you’re not comfortable, and me finding you cute doesn’t change that, I just - oh gosh, I just thought you should know. You’re a very adorable ghost.”

“Thank you, Pap.” Mettaton felt himself smiling. “I do appreciate it.”

Papyrus hummed his response, clearly pleased.

“So you’re not… weirded out, or anything?” Mettaton asked after a moment. “That I’m a ghost, I mean.”

“What? No! Should I be?” Papyrus sounded incredulous.

“No, it’s just - well, you know how people are.” Mettaton sighed, a little bitterly. “I’d be ruined if anyone found out about… this.” He gestured at himself.

“Well, your secret is safe with me,” Papyrus said, after a moment’s pause. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

“Thanks, Pap. For everything.” _I don’t deserve a friend this good._

“There’s really no need to thank me - I’m just treating you with basic courtesy,” Papyrus insisted. He held out his arms suddenly. “But you look like you could use a hug. Am I right?”

“You… well, you are, but you can’t really… hug ghosts. We’re incorporeal. Your arms will just go right through.”

“Undyne says ‘can’t’ is quitter talk. And I’m no quitter. Come here, at least let me try?” Papyrus asked. He wiggled his fingers, and Mettaton couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping. What a silly thing to do! He floated up to hover above Papyrus’ lap, letting himself phase through Papyrus’ chest a little. Papyrus’ arms phased into him, just as he’d said they would, but it was still pleasant. He let himself enjoy it. He could think about how absolutely terrible this was - the fact that he was out of his body, the fact that someone besides Alphys knew his big secret, the fact that it felt like a relief when he knew he should be worried - all of that could wait. He could think about it all later, when he wasn’t happily in the arms of someone he was rapidly becoming far too fond of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee bee, how come you get to write TWO chapters???


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apparently some wishes come true even if you don't use an echo flower

Papyrus was not fond of sleeping. He considered it a waste of time - there were so many other things he could be doing instead, like talking to his friends, or working on perfecting his signature dish, or catching up on his favorite television program, because who had time to do that in the daytime, anyways? Unfortunately, not many people felt the same, but he figured he couldn’t do much about that, and so found ways to entertain himself. 

He couldn’t just stay up forever, though. As much as he was loathe to admit it, even he, the great Papyrus, did eventually run out of energy. He allowed himself to sleep an average of one full night a week, though sometimes _incidents_ like that morning on the couch did happen. He tried not to think about those.

Last night had been the night, and the first one he’d actually spent with Mettaton, instead of getting up as soon as Mettaton shut himself off. Instead of simply leaving to wander around the hotel’s halls or swim in the roof pool or just watch television, he stayed. He slept. His body was relieved for the rest, of course, but his mind was… well, relieved too, if he was absolutely honest. Which he always tried to be. It had been quite a long week. 

At first, his mind raced, thinking about how he was sharing a bed with someone who was not Sans stumbling in mumbling incoherently about bad dreams in the middle of the night, and how that someone was his idol, who he had looked up to and adored for years and how said idol was curled rather adorably around a pillow just a few inches away, the soft hotel sheets draped elegantly over his long, graceful form. Papyrus thought he could reach out and touch him with a level of effort so minute even his lazybones brother would probably consider it doable. None of this was at all relaxing. And a little bit of him sort of wished he were that pillow. That was another not-so-relaxing thought.

Eventually, Papyrus must have fallen asleep, though, because he woke up precisely seven minutes and forty-three seconds before his alarm was set to go off, according to the clock on the bedside table, to an unexpected, tickly feeling under his chin. He tried to move - why waste approximately seven perfectly good, wakeful minutes laying around when one could be up and about? - but quickly found that he couldn’t really, which was alarming, as well as humiliating. What if Mettaton, one of the few people he considered to be as great as himself, happened to wake up before Papyrus was able to free himself from whatever trap had evidently been set on him in the night? He calmed himself, freeing his mind from such worrisome thoughts and instead concentrating on how to escape. A quick mental check, once he was less panicked, revealed that he could move his legs, at least up to the knees, along his fingers, his wrists, and his head, though that was limited by whatever was under his chin. The rest was of him was thoroughly incapacitated.

Those were all good signs. He hadn’t been trapped in some sort of immobility spell. Just a regular trap, then. It was like a puzzle, Papyrus thought to himself. He liked puzzles. That made it a little better. He stretched out his neck, leaning his head as far to the right, where the trap was not, as he could. Whatever was under his chin was soft and a little bit warm, now that he paid real attention to it. Incredibly soft. That was awfully suspicious in a trap. He did not trust that softness, not one little bit. 

Papyrus craned his neck just a little bit further and strained to look down, taking in whatever devious contraption was attached to him. Let’s see, whatever the Soft Thing was seemed to be black, and he could see some silver, around his middle, and more black, with some pink bits, it seemed, over to his left. Pink, black, and silver. So the trap was… Mettaton themed? 

No, no, that wasn’t it. It all came clattering together like jigsaw pieces out of a box. The trap wasn’t Mettaton themed, it was Mettaton. And he wasn’t trapping, Papyrus deducted, he was cuddling. This was… This was too good to be true, really. Mettaton, _the_ Mettaton, was here, and he was as wrapped around Papyrus as he possibly could be. It had to be a dream. Well, Dream-Mettaton certainly had a strong grip, Papyrus thought to himself. As much as he disliked laying around, Papyrus figured he would not be escaping without Mettaton waking up first, and he didn’t want to unplug him if he wasn’t charged, so he resigned himself to - possibly for the first time in his life - laying around. 

Bored, he tapped his fingers against his femurs, not in any particular rhythm, and hummed a little song Undyne had taught him, about bathing in the blood of one’s enemies. Papyrus preferred bathing in bubble baths, or showers of kisses, but the song was catchy. His chin brushed against Mettaton’s hair as his humming evolved into quiet singing, and the almost familiar smell of sweet roses and machine oil reached his nose. He stopped singing to breath it in, even though it was almost always around him, lately. 

“You know, it really would be convenient if you woke up right about now,” Papyrus muttered. Some of Mettaton’s hair had found its way into his mouth. 

Mettaton, of course, did not respond. 

“As much as I may enjoy this, I would like to get up about now. You probably don’t really care, though. You’re too famous for that, aren’t you?”

The room stayed quiet. A tiny spider scurried across the canopy above the bed, muttering to itself about needing to pay its rent. 

“I think you’re a nicer person than you let on,” Papyrus continued, ignoring the spider. “You’re rude to all those people but it’s just because you think you should be, isn't it? Because you’re a celebrity. Is that what the human celebrities do? I suppose it must be.” A pause. “You probably wouldn’t admit to that, even if you were awake, though. You don’t seem to like being approachable.”

The clock on the bedside table ticked patiently. Mettaton’s arms stayed wrapped tightly around Papyrus’ ribcage, the fingers of one of his hands clutching one rib. 

“I wonder if his fingers are going to get stuck there. That would be something,” Papyrus said to the ticking clock. Then, “You know, Metta, you look very nice, when you’re all peaceful like this. I know you like all your fancy stage lighting and your costumes and everything, but I think you look just as nice when you’re just comfortable. Very nice. Beautiful, actually. You look beautiful like this. You _are_ beautiful, Mettaton. Truly. Not just your stage persona. All of you.”

“Why, thank you darling,” Mettaton replied, smoothly. Papyrus would have jumped out of his skin, if he had any, and if he were in a position to jump. 

“You - you weren’t entirely supposed to hear all that,” Papyrus confessed. “I sort of thought this was a dream.”

“I didn’t, really, just caught the tail end of it. Were you monologuing?” Mettaton nuzzled into Papyrus’ collarbone, and Papyrus swore he felt his lips brush against it.

“No! No, of course not. Why are you cuddling me?” Indignance and a subject change were almost always the right way to go in situations like this. 

Mettaton, his face smushed against Papyrus’ shoulder, murmured something that sounded like, “mwurm.” 

“Could you maybe repeat that?”

“It’s warm,” Mettaton repeated, lifting his head. “I like to be warm.”

“Oh,” Papyrus said simply. Mettaton’s face was _very_ close to his. It was a little hard to think. 

“Wait a minute, how are you this warm? You’re just bones, how does this work?” 

“We sort of… radiate heat, I guess. Soul heat. It’s warmest inside my ribcage,” Papyrus explained. Mettaton nodded thoughtfully. 

“Is it really?” Mettaton inquired, raising one eyebrow. He stretched one arm a little further and stuck his hand under Papyrus’ ribs. Papyrus made a muffled sort of yelp and looked at Mettaton, wide eyed. People didn’t usually go sticking their hands into his ribcage. “Oh, you’re right, it is warmer in here. Gosh, Pap, you’re like a little living furnace.”

“I guess you could say that,” Papyrus said. Mettaton’s hand was resting lightly on his spine. The whole situation was making him feel a little irritable. He fought the urge to try and wriggle away. “Could you get off me? It’s already later than I’d like to be here. The morning is the best part of the day, and we’re missing it by just lying here.”

“I think you mean, the morning is the best part of the day _for_ just lying here,” Mettaton retorted. “But alright. Get up if you like. We don’t have to be at the studio for another two hours, so I am staying.”

“I can’t, you’re holding on too tight,” Papyrus complained, squirming. “See? I can’t move.”

“You’re warm and I’m comfortable. Come on, stop grumbling so much. We can order breakfast in bed, it’ll be fun,” Mettaton pleaded. “Besides, if it’s that nosy woman from the desk she’ll probably tell the tabloids, and they’ll all go on about how cute we are when we don’t think people are looking.”

“That’s a little creepy.”

“Well sure, but That’s show business. We’re trying to be convincing here. A few instances of candid affection that they aren’t technically supposed to see will help,” Mettaton explained.

“Fine,” Papyrus said after a moment. It was sort of hard to think with Mettaton’s face this close to his. Mettaton had very nice lips, Papyrus thought, glancing down at them. He hadn’t really noticed that before. He knew they were soft, he’d gotten enough onstage kisses for that, but he hadn’t really _looked_ at them before. They were plump and a matte charcoal color, and, at this point, pouting slightly, which was nice. And now they were moving. That was also nice. The concept that Mettaton’s lips moving might mean he was talking slowly dawned on Papyrus, and he forced himself to listen.

“Pappy, darling, I asked you what you wanted for breakfast. I’m going to get the deluxe pancakes. Is that okay for you?” Mettaton’s voice swam into focus, sounding mildly annoyed. 

“Oh, yeah, yes, of course, that’s fine,” Papyrus realized he was rambling. He stared at the patterned canopy above the bed as Mettaton finally let go of him and ordered the food, surprising himself by actually missing the tight feeling around his ribs. Mettaton’s leg was still draped between his ribcage and his pelvis, though. That was nice. Papyrus tucked his hands under his head and watched Mettaton out of the corner of his eye. 

Mettaton finished his phone call with a breathy, “thank you, darling,” and rolled back to settle against Papyrus. “Now, where were we?”

“We - um - we weren’t - nowhere, I think?”

“Mm,” Mettaton mumbled into Papyrus’ neck. 

“We’re only fake boyfriends,” Papyrus reminded him, gently, as he wrapped an arm around Mettaton’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, we’re fake boyfriends,” Mettaton agreed, not moving. “So pretend with me, won’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha ha ha wow look I'm not dead thanks again to my cool pal cal for being excited about this and making me excited about it u are one cool plant cal  
> mettaton is actually a cat that is a true fact i asked toby and he said so


	13. Chapter 13

“What? Oh, come on, darling, you can’t be serious!” Mettaton exclaimed into his phone, rolling away from Papyrus. He faced away from him, propping himself up on one elbow and glaring at the hotel wall, as if it were his manager. “What - why can’t he come? It’s good for my brand - and what’s he supposed to do? Fine. It’s fine, yes, I get it. I’ll be there, alone, but don’t blame me if the presses ask questions.” 

With a final huff of indignation, Mettaton hung up, giving the phone one more peeved look before putting it away. How dare that rude, incompetent son of a -

“Everything okay?” Papyrus asked gently, reaching over and resting a hand on Mettaton’s shoulder. Mettaton flinched away from the touch for a split second before forcing himself to relax, flopping onto his back.

“Manager says you can’t come to the thing today. I don’t know why - I tried to argue out of it, but -”

“It’s fine, Mettaton, I can take care of myself for a day,” Papyrus said, before Mettaton could finish. “I’m sure there’s some sightseeing I could do.”

“But -” Mettaton stopped himself before he said something stupid. Specifically, before he said he would miss having Papyrus around _. _ They were only fake dating. Papyrus had been oh-so-careful to remind him of that just this morning. Whether or not he actually felt something for Papyrus - well, that didn’t matter. Papyrus was just being a good friend. “It’s just a meeting, anyway. It wouldn’t be very interesting.”

“The great Papyrus appreciates your concern,” Papyrus said, gravely. “But I will be fine. I think I saw a restaurant that sells pasta down the street. I’d like to talk to the chef.”

"I know, it'll just be boring without you." There. That was slightly less gay, wasn't it? 

"I'm sure you'll survive," Papyrus replied dryly. "Besides, it's only one afternoon. We still have that evening show, don't we? You'll have plenty of time to spend with the amazing - uh, me, then, so worry not! We will be reunited before you know it."

Mettaton  _hmph'd_ to himself at that. He sat up, stretching languidly, and forced himself to get up. He'd have plenty of time to cuddle and spoil Papyrus onstage, where it actually mattered, he told himself. This was fine. 

 

* * *

 

These meetings were always boring. Of course, Mettaton knew they could be worse, they could not be all about him, which would be absolutely nightmarish, but he also knew that it wasn’t good to compare one’s pain to anyone else’s. Just because he was still the center of attention and definitely had the best legs of anyone at the table didn’t mean he wasn’t suffering. He sat at the head of the table in an ornate chair, his previously mentioned superior legs on the table, half listening to a man with one eye that seemed to continuously leak purple liquid talk about sales. This would be more fun if he had his arm candy, Mettaton thought. His mind wandered, mostly without his allowing it, to an alternate version of this meeting where instead of his regal chair he was draped across Papyrus’ lap, delicately picking peeled grapes from between skeletal fingers with his teeth, occasionally pausing to lick the juice from Papyrus’ fingers, while -

“Mettaton? Mettaton, this is your own company we’re talking about, it would probably do you good to pay attention,” the man said peevishly, leaning forward. His eye dripped fat violet tears on the table. Mettaton dragged his eyes up from the steaming puddle to stare balefully at the sales… whatever. Whatever his title was. The fact that he’d interrupted Mettaton’s daydream made him resentful.

“Darling, it  _ is _ my business,” Mettaton replied, his voice sweet. “And it would probably do  _ you _ good not to be rude to me. Don’t you think?”

The man blinked, twice in quick succession, and dabbed at the wet fur under his eye with an equally wet indigo handkerchief. Mettaton wondered if it had always been that color, or if it had stained that way, considering its use.

“O-of course, sir. I was just saying, you’d probably have more luck if you focused on more accessible products.”

“Are my products not accessible enough?” Mettaton leaned forward and arched one eyebrow. Of course, it wasn’t his fault if they were, but if someone wasn’t being their absolute very best for his company, he wanted to know. He’d fire them. The thought of Papyrus’ disappointment at such a sentiment occurred to him, and he rethought. Maybe he wouldn’t fire them. But he’d threaten to, anyway. “I have a store within walking distance of every single home in the underground - I had it calculated. What happened? Did somebody move?”

“No no, not like that, Mettaton, I just think if you widened your line to include things more marketable to… you know, customers who might not be robots, you might gain a wider clientele,” the monster just about radiated anxiety, but he was doing a remarkably good job holding up, Mettaton thought. “Aside from your fan collectibles, you have not been ridiculously successful, as you may have noticed.”

“Not ridiculously successful? Whatever do you mean? I haven’t had a show that wasn’t sold out in months.”

“Not the shows. The products. For example, your MTT brand machine oil, in five unique scents, hasn’t seen much popularity, and neither has the… aneem powder? A-nyme? Is that it? No one is totally sure what that is. And there have been reports of…” He leaned down and squinted at the paper in front of him on the table. “Glitter? I believe, yes, glitter, in your glamburgers. I suggest you -”

“The glitter is part of the experience,” Mettaton interrupted him. “It’s a  _ glam _ burger, after all. It has to be glamorous. And it’s anime powder.”

“Hm.” The sales-whatever - manager of sales, Mettaton was pretty sure that’s what he was - clicked his tongue behind his furry lips and shuffled the papers in front of him. Mettaton fought to keep his face neutral, feeling his fans speed up in frustration.

“I - I think we could all use a break, hmm?” Mettaton said, after calming himself down. He swung his legs off the table easily and stood up, smiling benevolently. “Darlings, you all look tired. Let’s meet back in fifteen, does that sound good to everyone?”

There was a general murmuring assent, but Mettaton was already out the door, going to his private bathroom - a stupid thing for a robot to have, honestly - and collapsing on the chaise lounge dramatically even though no one else was there to see him.

He was going to fire that sales manager. The insolence of that man! Mettaton didn’t care what Papyrus thought, this guy was clearly not what the MTT company name needed. Papyrus could say whatever he wanted - it wasn’t like Mettaton needed his approval. Mettaton didn’t need anyone’s approval.

Mettaton didn’t need anyone. He was a star, all he needed was the stage, and the love of his fans, which he reciprocated, in a vague sort of way. He loved them, as an abstract, singular mass, hiding behind the cameras and microphones they shoved in his face. Of course, he didn’t know them all individually, but he loved them, as one large cloudy entity. His Fans, who were to catch the kisses he blew to them and to write their silly articles about his outfits and to be shooed away by guards when they got too close for comfort. At the very most, they were to be led benevolently away to his dressing room for an after show experience nobody would believe really happened, if they dared to tell, and then never thought of again. Mettaton didn’t need individuals. He couldn’t. Show one single powder crumb of weakness and they’ll eat you alive - that’s show business.

Feeling affection was a weakness, and Mettaton had fought hard for his strength. He didn’t give it up to just anybody. Building up his - both literal and figurative - armor had taken time and effort he was not willing to simply throw away.

Or was he? The few times he’d actually opened up to Papyrus, he’d actually felt relieved. He found himself wanting to tell Papyrus more, instead of instantly regretting it like he normally did. It shocked him - revealing his (admittedly very few) insecurities had always come with panic, even with the people he trusted. And yet, with Papyrus, it was the opposite. There was just something so… comfortable about him. That in itself was unnerving. Why did Mettaton feel safe enough to open up to someone he’d only met a few weeks ago? They hardly knew each other! It was ridiculously foolish, and yet here he was, opening up more and more every day. He was even thinking about Papyrus when it came to his business, which was just ridiculous. Mettaton was pretty sure Papyrus didn’t have any experience in this field. 

It didn’t seem like Papyrus had much experience in any field, come to think of it. He was confident, almost obnoxiously confident, about everything he did, but he had never actually been able to back up his claims. Maybe he was an experienced cook - he talked about cooking a lot, though Mettaton had yet to witness his skill first hand. He certainly wasn’t experienced when it came to romance. For all his boasting, Papyrus blushed - adorably, Mettaton had to admit - at even the slightest show of affection, and often fumbled for words the rare times Mettaton let him take the lead. And he always asked for permission, something which surprised Mettaton. He was used to fans forgetting boundaries and saying things they shouldn’t - his consent did not matter to them. And here was Papyrus, whom he had expressly stated could be as affectionate and touchy-feely as he pleased, giving him little whispered requests, like, “Can I kiss you now?” and, “Do you think we should hold hands for a while?” between the winning smiles they both kept pointed at the cameras. It always caught Mettaton off guard, but he had learned to respond subtly, barely nodding his head or squeezing Papyrus’ hand in lieu of answering out loud.

He’d even begun to notice himself doing it, lately. Just this morning he had stood in the doorway of the hotel room, leaning against the frame in a way he knew made his hips look amazing and said, casually, “Kiss for the road, darling?”

“There’s no one around,” Papyrus had replied, after blinking at him in surprise, but he’d stepped forward willingly, into Mettaton’s embrace.

“You never know - could be security cameras,” Mettaton had answered, after kissing him twice in quick succession. He’d smiled winningly, winked, and stolen another peck before patting Papyrus’ cheekbone, turning on his heel and flouncing to the elevator.

Of course, he’d spent that elevator ride willing his fans to stop their incessant whirring, and thanking Alphys for not installing any way for him to blush, and trying not to think about the fact that he’d just kissed his fake boyfriend for no reason other than that he liked him. Those were not thoughts that Mettaton enjoyed. Those were the kind of thoughts that reminded him that just because he was a celebrity he couldn’t have absolutely everything he wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought I was dead, huh? Well, I'm not. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> fun fact the five unique scents of the MTT-patented machine oil are Mettaton, Show Biz, Sex, (Drama) Queen, and Gl'amour. He thinks that last one is clever n fancy bc Glamour and Amour wow so elegant so french so clever. im so tired u guys.  
> As usual cal the pressure of u liking this thing has forced me to write so uh. everyone who likes this shitfest can thank cal. Because I am a tired old man but they make my heart smile and also listen when I talk about this so I must carry on. u go cal ur doin the lord's work here  
> Also uhhhhh tag urself with what smell u are lmao im (drama) queen


	14. ***OOC***Fic Maintenance

Hello Darlings!

I'm here at last, but sadly not to finish off this poor bastard. I lost my interest in both undertale (I still adore it in retrospect but I'm not actively interested anymore) and this fic years ago, and as far as I can tell I won't be getting it back any time soon. But hey, clearly some of you weirdos don't feel the same, and so it continues. My esteemed colleague over at TheSavvyGeekInGlasses has volunteered to ~~beat this dead horse in my stead~~ finish this piece for me, so I hope you'll all give them a warm welcome! I can't tell you what direction this story will this story will take now, but I'm sure it'll be better than whatever I could muster at this point. 

Best,

Bee


	15. The Burden of Wandering Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I could have probably done better, but I didn't really know any other way to execute the idea I had, so here you go. Hopefully I can make the next chapter longer. I'm not exactly known for long chapters, heh... But I tried! So, without further ado, here's a new chapter to kick of the Christmas season! Woo! <3

Mettaton’s body was nearly quivering from embarrassment, his metal back pressed against the elevator’s walls. He enjoyed the way Papyrus’ teeth felt against his silicone lips, but at the same time, he hated it. The feelings rose and made him feel fluttery, as if he could fly on the wings of love. His wall of pride that stood against his forceful desires seemed to be creaking and cracking under the pressure. Papyrus would never know, he decided, closing his eyes. His “lover” would go back to a normal life. They could remain friends and just forget this fake relationship ever even happened. No… no, that wouldn’t work. It was all over the Undernet. No matter what site, there was some kind of ad or article raving about the hottest celebrity’s ‘boyfriend.’ He breathed out a sigh, a pout crossing his features.

Whatever. He just needed a day to take his mind off of it. No Papyrus. No relationship. No fame. The only thing on his mind would- no, _will_ be himself. He furrowed his brows as a smirk crossed his lips, stepping a heeled foot through the entrance of the elevator once it opened. Yeah, that’s all it would take. Just a day to himself with no disruptions would be perfect.

Papyrus remained in the doorway, cheeks flushed and heart racing. Those kisses felt… Different. You could almost say genuine… No, that’s ridiculous! They’d already been over this! Their “relationship” was strictly for show. He was nothing more than just an actor in Mettaton’s play. He lowered his head a little at the realization, turning back into their shared hotel room. The thoughts plagued his mind as he continued to the couch, staring at his lap once he sat down. He had to be more than a performer. They were friends, after all! That, at least, had to be true, yet a lingering ache was still present and clear. What if that bond, their friendship, really was false? He shook his head, clutching his skull. Preposterous! He was the Great Papyrus, connoisseur of all things pasta and a future royal guardsman! Who wouldn’t want to be his friend? He felt better telling himself this, straightening his posture into a proud pose. A moment passed, his form slumping once again. Why did he yearn for Mettaton's touch? The thought sent shivers of desire up his spine. The kisses. The light trailing of the robot's silicone-covered fingers up his own cool phalanges. The quiet whispers of what the audience thought was affection. If only it was. Instead, he knew it would always be an order of what to do to make this "play" seem genuine. _Snuggle closer to me. Nuzzle into my hand when I cup your cheek. Act flustered when I kiss your forehead. They'll go crazy for it._ He wanted that feeling more than anything else. A real, loving touch. Maybe Mettaton would eventually fall for his charms... He hoped.

 

* * *

 

Mettaton's heels clicked on the tile floor of the mall, then came to a halt as his eyes flicked over to the different stores. Hm... New clothes were always fun. He decided on a store that seemed to have a variety of different outfits, all expensive, of course. He hummed quietly as he approached it, adjusting his sunglasses as he entered the shop. He headed towards the men's section, hoping he could find a new suit to wear. You can never have too many suits. He looked through the different colours, most of them being variations of blue or black, and sighed. _I wonder what Papyrus would look like in a suit..._ He shook his head. Where did that come from? Who cares what that silly skeleton looks like in formals? He blew a strand of dark hair from his face with a huff. It doesn't matter. He got bored and switched his attention to the dresses in the ladies section, deciding them to look more interesting. He needed some new ones anyways. Hell, while he's here, might as well get something for Alphys, too. He distracted himself with the bright colours, glinting gems, and varied styles of the many dresses, trying to keep his mind far from the monster at the hotel.

Unbeknownst to the metallic celebrity, his faux lover had the same problem. He'd cleaned the room twice and made sure it was perfect, now left with nothing but his thoughts and the television that seemed to almost always broadcast the robot he had a crush on. That smooth, beautiful voice rang through his skull like bells at Christmas, light and airy. This wasn't fair! Why couldn't he seem him as just a friend? Why couldn't he just make these fluttery feelings disappear? Really, how difficult can it be? ... Well, that proved to be very, it seemed. He was startled from his contemplating when he registered that the door was being knocked on. He got up and rushed over to the door, opening it proudly and greeting the person.

"Hello, wha- OH! Melinda! How are you?" He asked, a beaming grin plastered across his face. The smaller monster clicked her claws together, looking up at the much taller skeleton.

"Hi, Papyrus. Um, I got a few complaints from downstairs of repetitive footsteps, I think it was? Just, um, try to keep it down, alright?" She said, more stating than asking.

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry!" He quickly apologized, a light blush tinting his cheekbones. "I was just thinking!"

"Oh, well... I'm sure you'll get things sorted out... Would you like to talk about it? I know I'm not really, um, you know, the best person to talk about your problems, but..." Her voice trailed off. The little monster reminded him of Alphys a little. Well, at least what he'd heard from Mettaton. He'd only met the scientist once but still had a pretty good idea of he personality.

"Oh, well..." He thought for a moment. He couldn't really tell anyone and he knew that. They'd worked this hard to keep the secret. Could he really chance this for a little less stress?

"I... Would like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to bring Melinda back because, well... Honestly, I'm not sure. Buuut I did. ;) I hope I did alright!


	16. So

I will continue this! Promise! I just haven't been feeling very creative on where to take it. So I was thinking...

"What do the readers want to see?"

Thus, I have decided from here on, you guys can help turn the story with me! Just let me know in the comments and it might be in the upcoming chapters. ;)

Savvy out! <3


	17. So here's the thing (personal update)

Alright, so I hate to say this, but I've grown out of Undertale. It doesn't have the same appeal as it did originally for whatever reason, and I knew it would happen eventually.

That being said, I do want to at least bring this to some sort of conclusion, so I plan on finishing it eventually with the help of some friends.

Now that that's out of the way, due to my lack of inspiration, falling out interest-wise, and my other fics I'm working on currently, it may take a while to get the next chapters and conclusion finished, but rest assured it will in due time.

I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, and I hope despite all this I can finish it up in a satisfying way for everyone. 

Thank you for understanding. Love you all! <3

 

_Savvy_


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